


The Brides - Part Two

by ArtemisArcher83



Series: B Series [10]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:22:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 55,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisArcher83/pseuds/ArtemisArcher83
Summary: Following the reappearance of Eleanor and Rupert Wells, Helena and Myka get back on track and finally tie the knot. Will everything go to plan?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here we go again, folks!
> 
> I very much wanted to start uploading this at least a month ago, but life happened and priorities shifted, as they do. I tried my best to get the story back on track after having to put it down. I hope it flows well enough to still be enjoyable.
> 
> Mostly good feels ahead :-D

Chapter One

“I _like_ the plain ones,” Myka grumbled as she followed her mother around the department-store with Christina and Tracy in tow.

Four months had passed since the discovery that Helena’s grandparents had not died in a ship wreck; since finding out that their destinies were more entangled with their enemy’s than they ever could have guessed; and since they had insisted, rather vehemently, that they should no longer be relegated to paying lip-service to regency.

Claudia was the most apologetic, insisting that she had been excited about the reunion with the elder Wells couple and in all her enthusiasm, just hadn’t paused long enough to consider how much the shock might hurt. In her obvious contrition, she was easy to forgive and as she was an integral part of the machine that was organising the upcoming nuptials, this was a blessing.

Jane and Don, having not known, were merely held to account for their insistence that the lies were for everyone’s benefit. They were arrogant with the best of intentions and took their lead from two who showed not the slightest hint of regret: Adwin and Irene.

After several frustrating attempts to reason with the head regent and ex-caretaker, Helena and Myka realised that they were dealing with fanatics: calm, passive fanatics, but unshakable in their beliefs. So they decided in the end to be grateful that they were on the same side and leave it at that.

Progress with Rupert and Eleanor Wells was slow but assured. Once Helena decided that love and forgiveness were easier to live with than anger and resentment, Myka followed suit and bridges were soon being repaired and reinforced. Tentative first steps began from afar; the odd base-touch via Claudia’s secure network became daily conversations the moment Christina became part of the equation. With the eleven-year-old’s infinite compassion and easy-going nature added to the mix, it was inevitable that the older couple would eventually join their family stateside.

Mr Kosan arranged, through a backdoor into the Warehouse’s finances, to provide the couple with a salary and back pay. Though the steady income was not needed for Claudia to bypass immigration, it smoothed the process somewhat, and Christina was delighted to have her great-grandparents in walking distance.

With the swift passing of time, the much-anticipated wedding drew closer. Though most things of real importance were taken care of: invitations, flights, accommodation and such, Myka’s mother continued to insist that there was much left to do. Shopping for tableware was apparently of dire import.

As she tried to insert her opinion into the debate, the regent caught her sister’s gaze and rolled her eyes. “Besides, we _have_ plates. What do you think we’ve been eating off for the last three and a half years?”

“Enough of the back-chat, young lady,” Jeannie admonished lightly. “It’s tradition. We did the same for Tracy.”

“And they’ve barely been out of the cupboard,” Myka argued. She wished she could fob this job off on her wedding planners, but Claudia was busy with her recruits and she was reluctant to subject her daughter to too much time with her mother when Jeannie was in this sort of mood.

“Leave me out of this,” Tracy grumbled.

“Wouldn’t you like something nice to pass down to your children?” Jeannie tried to reason as she moved to admire the contents of another cabinet.

 _No, I’d rather torture them with endless shopping trips,_ she thought grumpily. “If that’s the goal, then why not give me yours?” Myka knew the moment the words were out of her mouth, that she’d found part of the issue. “I’ve never seen any in the apartment though,” she added tentatively.

Jeannie’s energy seemed to seep out of her and she turned her back on her children as she gathered her thoughts. “Your father and I put all of our money into the shop and with what little our parents were able to scrape together, there wasn’t anything left after the wedding to spend on trivialities.”

Sensing that this was an issue between Myka and their mother, Tracy placed her hand over her niece’s shoulder and tried to make good their escape. “Chrissie and I are going to check out the scene at Ben and Jerry’s. Come find us when you’ve figured out... whatever this is. For the record though, Mom? I love my plates.” She took her niece’s hand and stuck her tongue out at her older sibling.

Myka rolled her eyes again at her sister even as she felt gratitude for Christina’s opportunity to escape. She wasn’t entirely sure what was bothering her mother but from the silver-haired woman’s comments so far, she had an inkling that it had something to do with Helena’s effortless wealth. Deciding that they weren’t in the best place for a heart-to-heart, she led them to an outdoor seating area.

“Mom, what’s up? I know this isn’t just about plates,” the regent asked as she found a bench and sat facing her mother.

“Dear, you don’t have to make such a fuss. If you don’t want the plates, don’t have the plates,” Jeannie answered defensively. She tried to appear nonchalant but didn’t do a very good job of it.

“I _don’t_ want the plates,” Myka confirmed as kindly as she could, pressing on as she noticed her mother’s slight flinch. “I _do_ want to know why it means so much to you that I have them though.”

“It’s nothing,” the older woman stubbornly insisted.

Myka gritted her teeth but managed to keep her tone calm. “It’s not _nothing_. I think I know what it is but I’d rather hear it from you.”

The Bering matriarch fidgeted for several seconds, appearing to war with herself over how to respond. “Helena has given you everything you could possibly want,” she eventually settled on.

“That’s not a good thing?” the younger woman asked probingly.

“Of course it is. It wasn’t easy for me to see it at first, not with my eyes closed, but she completes you in a way I didn’t think was possible.” She smiled at the expression on her daughter’s face before sighing. “I know I’m being ridiculous, Myka. I just can’t seem to help myself. With Helena and now Eleanor, what do you need your backward-thinking mother for?”

“Backward-thinking?” Myka parroted, considering it odd that her mother chose those words.

“I’m sure that’s what they must think of me,” Jeannie sniffed as her expression hardened.

“Mom,” Myka began to try and reason. “I’m sure they don’t...”

“How could they not? Eleanor was more of a mother to you than I was at a time when you needed me most.” Her hands clenched together as her lip wobbled. “I still don’t find it easy,” she admitted softly. “And now _they’re_ here and are willing and able to provide for you better than I can.”

Myka slipped a hand between her mother’s and scooted closer. “Mom, if this is about money, I love the fact that you and Dad couldn’t afford to give us everything. It’s nice _not_ having to worry about money but I know it’s not the most important thing in life. You should hear the disagreements Helena and I sometimes have about not spoiling the kids. Even if sometimes I can’t help myself either; you’ve said so yourself that I spoil them. I want them to appreciate what they earn like you taught me to.” She paused to see that her words were sinking in before continuing. “As for the rest. You had a choice and you chose to love and support me even when you weren’t sure that it was the right thing to do. When it definitely wasn’t easy for you. That means more to me than I could ever put into words. I don’t need _things_ to know that you love me, because you show me every day.”

Jeannie turned away to wipe at a tear before turning back. “You have a lovely way with words.”

“Just another gift that you and Dad gave me,” the regent teased.

* * * * *

Across town, another ‘mother/daughter’ conversation was taking place. Stood before a case of jewellery, Helena and Eleanor were debating the best choice for the inventor’s wedding ring.

“I don’t want it to be identical to Myka’s,” Helena grumbled almost to herself. “But they should complement one another, don’t you think?”

Eleanor watched her granddaughter’s gaze flit between the display case and her own hand and smiled to herself. “Yes, petal,” she agreed for what had to be the dozenth time in the last two hours. “Do _you_ not think that you are allowing yourself to fret a tad too much?” she suggested gently. “I know Myka will not complain about any ring so long as you like it.”

HG bit her lip and nodded. She was running out of time and for some reason, this task was proving to be more troublesome than she had anticipated. Gazing down at the diamond adorning her left hand, she drifted back to Myka’s birthday and smiled to herself.

She recalled the busy day and how her fiancée dragged her to bed after a glass of wine in the garden before sinking down on one knee...

_With the children tucked into bed for the night, Myka led her partner into the back garden and joined her on the swinging bench on the porch. They had pulled back the awning, giving them a clear view of the sky as the sun slipped through the trees towards the horizon and tiny spots of light dotted a sapphire sky. As the birthday girl settled close to the inventor, wine in hand, she breathed in the crisp night air and sighed._

_“I had a wonderful day today, Helena. As always,” she added as she thought back to her birthday celebrations from the past two years. “After all this time, I wonder how you manage to make me blush so much.”_

_“Talent, darling,” HG smirked into her glass. “And preparation.”_

_“I should take more opportunities to return the favour,” the brunette mused._

_“I have no qualms about you trying,” Helena responded with an arrogant air._

_Myka lowered the glass that was half way to her mouth and scowled. “I do know how to make you blush,” she argued._

_“Certainly,” Helena answered, knowing that her non-specific, laconic reply would poke at the right buttons._

_The American scoffed as she recognised the game and the challenge. “You’re not going to win tonight, Helena.”_

_“Is this a game?” the inventor responded with feigned ignorance. She might not have been as innocent as she pretended but the touch of surprise in her eyes was real enough. Normally at this point, Myka would be dissecting her every word and searching her memories to prove Helena wrong, but after only a brief spark of that green fire, it died down to smoulder gently behind a calm gaze._

_Myka slowly drained the last of her wine and made a show of contemplating the darkening sky. “Perhaps... But tonight, I’m going to get one over you.” She stood and reached a hand out in invitation._

_“Well, I shan’t say no to an offer like that,” Helena grinned as she laced their fingers together and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet._

_“Behave,” the birthday-girl admonished half-heartedly. Almost walking backwards as she pulled her fiancée along, she answered, “I have something I’ve been dying to give to you for a while now.”_

_Thoughts of trying to get a rise out of her lover vanished abruptly as Helena digested those words and left her imagination to have free rein with them. “Lead the way,” she responded and followed in a happy daze._

_They reached the landing, paused for the customary ‘sound of movement’ check and then disappeared into their bedroom. Myka smirked as Helena’s clothes began to litter the floor but made no motion to remove her own._

_Frowning, clad only in bra and slacks, Helena watched her partner search through the bedside drawer and return to stand in front of her again, only with one hand now hidden behind her back. “I was certain that we kept our accessories elsewhere,” she commented, feeling confused since she knew Myka wouldn’t put anything x-rated in reach of their children. “I’m beginning to think that this surprise hasn’t anything to do with seeing you naked.”_

_“I told you I’d get one over you,” Myka teased._

_“Forgive me, darling, but I had hoped that ‘getting one over me’ had an altogether different connotation,” the inventor replied._

_The American chuckled. “Oh, I know exactly what you were thinking.”_

_Deciding to change the subject, HG asked, “You do recall that traditionally, on one’s birthday, you are the recipient not the giver of gifts?”_

_Myka ignored the comment and moved so they were stood toe to toe. Behind her back, fingers grasped tightly to a small, black box while her free hand began to explore the exposed skin of her lover’s shoulders. “Five years ago, or thereabouts, I met my soul mate. I didn’t know it then and neither did she, and we had to struggle through some difficult times before we could truly be together, but I want you to know, Helena,” she paused to check that her companion was hanging on her every word and saw a familiar hint of shame behind mahogany eyes. “Though I regretted not doing more to help you, I have never once regretted letting you in.” At this point, knowing that she couldn’t drag it out for too long or the older woman would begin to get suspicious, Myka sank down on one knee, her eidetic memory storing every twitch of shock and delight on the Brit’s face as she did. “You chose me,” she explained as she carefully brought the box into view and slowly opened it. “I want you to have something to remind you that I chose you too..._

_“Helena, will you marry me?”_

Recalling Myka’s surprising proposal brought a smile and a tear to the inventor’s features and she had to shake off the memory before she could answer with a clear voice. “She is rather accommodating. In some instances at least.”

“Helena, I could tell you that life is too short to hold onto regret when one has received pardon already, but perhaps a small amount is not so detrimental: if it serves to keep us humble and appreciative of those we have wronged.” Eleanor didn’t want to specifically mention her own wrong-doings but she felt that it was implied. “I think the secret may be in how much you allow those thoughts to hinder your life. Are your regrets making you think twice about marrying Myka?”

“Don’t be absurd!” HG answered emphatically. The mere idea that she might choose not to marry Myka was ludicrous.

A gentle hand landed on the inventor’s shoulder. “Love, I did not mean to suggest that you would consider calling off the wedding,” Eleanor reassured her granddaughter. “Only that, perhaps the reality of the situation is finally beginning to sink in and in light of the commitment you are about to make, you are questioning your worth.”

It made sense and Helena reluctantly nodded. “I have ruminated enough over the subject to know that my fears are unfounded. Still, they persist in tormenting me on occasion.”

“You’re on a path to redemption and are in love. It can be easy to forget one’s own merits but I trust that Myka reminds you of yours often enough? You are not undeserving, my Little One.” She watched the play of emotions behind the inventor’s eyes and knew that the younger woman needed some time to digest her words. “Shall we call it a day? In this frame of mind, you are not likely to be content with any purchase, no matter how fitting.”

“That is perhaps best,” HG answered with a sigh. She really wanted to tick this task off on her list of things to do before the wedding, but Myka had insisted that she take as long as she needed to find the right one and nothing had taken her fancy yet.

They each offered the hovering assistant a polite nod and a word of thanks for the man’s patience before stepping out into the summer sun. With June almost at an end, the city streets bustled, with locals and tourists all making the most of the good weather. Helena and Eleanor found a gap within the foot-traffic and began to make their way to Rocky Mountain Lake, where they’d agreed to meet up with the rest of their family for lunch.

A silence fell upon the pair, the air around them somewhere between comfortable and awkward. They shared an understanding of how disparate their surroundings were with where they’d each spent the early portions of their lives and this pulled them closer together, but with that camaraderie came the knowledge that they still struggled to be as close as they had once been.

“Your grandfather may be of better assistance to you in this quest,” Eleanor ventured after lengthy contemplation. “He is a hopeless romantic after all.”

Helena smiled, feeling fondness for her grandfather and relief for the diminished tension. “I will speak with him,” she offered and searched for something to add. “I am beginning to wonder whether it is not too late to requisition a ring, as he once did. If I had known that the task would be this arduous, I would have seen to it months ago.”

“I have to say that I am surprised that it was not your first consideration,” Eleanor confessed as they crossed an intersection and dodged oncoming pedestrians.

“I was rather more concerned with ensuring that Myka would approve of everything. My own desires were not an immediate priority beyond that, and then...” She glanced swiftly at the older Wells and then back at the pavement in front of her. “Well, I became somewhat distracted.”

Knowing precisely what that comment meant, the Wells matriarch felt a stab of guilt. “I am sorry, my darling.”

“You are worth more to me than jewellery,” the inventor was quick to add, a hand reaching out to squeeze the older woman’s in reassurance.

Eleanor’s expression softened considerably. “And I appreciate that, Helena. You have been rather more magnanimous with me than perhaps I deserve. Still, this is your wedding and I would like you to have the best of everything.”

“I have Myka,” the inventor answered without thought. “My children, now you and Papa, and the rest of our family and friends. What need have I beyond that?”

Pride swelled the older Victorian’s chest and she glanced at her granddaughter with approval. “It is good that you can see that, love. Yet your mind will not be easy until you have found the ring that symbolises all of that. I know you, Helena; you are not looking for a simple trinket.”

“No,” HG nodded her agreement. “But even a simple trinket can become so much more under the right circumstances. Have we not seen this time and again in our line of work?”

A thoughtful brow rose in response. “True.”

The following lull in conversation was not nearly as uncomfortable as the previous one and the pair continued their journey by exchanging the occasional observation on modern life: comparing architecture between buildings and lamenting the number of people they passed, most of them barely looking up from their phones to appreciate the vibrant world around them.

Rocky Mountain Lake was busy too, with lots of families and couples sat on picnic blankets and benches, while the occasional jogger or dog walker toed the footpath. They found their boisterous family soon enough though, spotting Christina crawling on all fours with Freddy on her back and Myka hovering nearby, ready at a moment’s notice to catch her son if he looked like he was going to topple. Daniel sat on his father’s tummy close by; one eye on his cousins as if he couldn’t decide which game seemed more interesting.

Helena honed in on her fiancée and children, her eyes only for them while she traversed the grass to where the family were seated. She and Eleanor parted to greet their respective mates and Helena felt some unidentifiable weight temporarily lift from her shoulders; the second Myka’s lips found hers, any concerns from the morning deserted her.

“Mmm,” Myka hummed as Helena’s hand slid along her lower back. “Hey, honey. How was your morning?”

“So, so,” the inventor replied, a warm smile still lingering across her mouth. “Better for seeing you.”

“Charmer,” Myka chuckled as she leant into the Brit and bumped their hips together. She took a peak behind her fiancée and watched as Eleanor accepted a deck chair from her husband and Myka immediately pictured the two sat somewhere like Blackpool peer, Rupert holding his wife’s parasol while she adjusted her skirts against the coastal breeze. “What do you say we get this show on the road?” she added in a louder voice and nodded to her sister to grab the cooler.

They ate in the chaotic way families do when there are no formal place settings or order to the consumption of the meal, and when youngsters are released from the restraints of chairs and free to come and go between food and play. Unconcerned by boundaries, Christina flitted between family members in turn, never slowing down or showing preference, the perfect tourniquet for fractured souls.

When the meal was over, Mrs Bering and the Littlewoods gathered their things and said their goodbyes. Jeannie was overly concerned (in her children’s opinions) with leaving her husband alone in the shop all day and Tracy had agreed to take her home after lunch. As Daniel’s parents had a longer drive home the next day, they didn’t complain about leaving early.

Myka grabbed the almost empty cooler while Helena argued pointlessly with her grandmother over who would carry the chairs back to the car. Needless to say, the inventor ended up with Freddy on her shoulders and hands free to hold firmly onto his legs.

After dropping all of their extra belongings back in the car, they spent the rest of the afternoon at The Denver Puppet Theatre. Fredrick was a bit too young to sit through the performance so Myka volunteered to entertain him with the activities elsewhere in the building, while HG led Christina and her grandparents into a small theatre and joined them on four plastic chairs. As one of the eldest children in the room, Christina remained with her family but perched on the edge of her seat rather than sit on the floor at the front, more willing than most to play along with the story and talk to the characters.

Helena chuckled to herself with every giggle and gasp that escaped her eldest. She recalled a marionette that used to hang in Christina’s bedroom back in her brother’s house in London and knew instantly that they wouldn’t be able to leave today without taking a few souvenirs with them. Almost as if her grandmother had read her mind, as the memory pulled forth forgotten tears, Eleanor’s hand slipped into her own and suddenly, the connection that had been missing since their reunion reared its head and chased the shadows away.

* * * * *

As they passed into Boulder later that day and Myka began to slow down in preparation for letting her future in-laws out of the car, Eleanor vetoed the direction and requested that they drive on. With a quick glance and a nod from Helena, Myka returned her foot to the accelerator. If she was surprised at all by the proceedings, she didn’t show it and stored any burning questions away until later.

Through some unspoken communication, the elder Wells couple split in opposite directions, Rupert taking Helena by the arm and asking for another look at her laboratory.

“I do not believe I will ever quite get used to all of this new technology,” he chatted as the inventor led him into the basement and offered him a stool. Seeing Helena’s hand on the work surface, he placed his on top and squeezed it in comfort. “I imagine that was the last thing you struggled with though.”

Recalling the welcome distraction of so many flashy things, to the painful, dark thoughts that had accompanied her early in her debronzing, Helena nodded. “It was rather like being a child in a sweet-shop. Certainly the leaps in technology were easier to come to terms with than the paths humanity had taken in a century.”

“Though so long as the world is a home to people like Myka, hope will never be completely lost,” Rupert commented, somehow managing to dig into the one thing that had saved his Little One from the precipice of total destruction. “Now,” he patted her hand and sat up straighter. “About this ring business...”

Chuckling and shaking her head at the realisation that he still knew just how much to push and when to step back, HG ran the fingers of one hand through her hair and leant her head on her hand, waiting for him to continue.

“I know that you are as worried about Myka’s connection to the ring as I was with your grandmother and we talked about finding some way to... dispel or dampen the effects. I have discovered very little but there is something we might try...” Rupert’s expression had turned serious; a look that rarely adorned his features. “Myka may not approve. Your grandmother certainly was not enamoured with the idea when I informed her at lunch.”

“During the five minutes that Christina left the two of you alone?” Helena wondered with a raised brow.

“There was no time as we left home this morning and I dared not wait until we were home once more: I wanted witnesses nearby,” he joked before the humour left his eyes again.

“I take it that your discovery might be dangerous?” Helena wondered aloud.

“As with any artefact, there is the potential for danger.” He reached into a pocket inside his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Miss Donovan and I, amongst many things, have looked extensively at this item.” He unfolded the paper and handed it to Helena.

HG scanned the page and immediately recognised the artefact. “The Hammer of Hephestus? You believe that it can alter the rings since it made them in the first place? What’s the catch?” Her eyes returned to the words and began to process the information this time.

“Miss Donovan and I believe that we could make another ring and split the effects between the new ring and Myka’s,” he explained.

Helena dragged in a sharp breath, part in relief and part in despair. “I would be the one to wear the second ring,” she immediately deduced. “You are correct, Myka will not like it.” Without conscious effort, her legs lifted her from her stool and carried her across the room and back. She sighed and a small sarcastic huff fell from her lips. “It seems rather fortunate now that I have not managed to find a ring that took my fancy.”

“Some things fall into place when they can and must,” Rupert offered as something of an explanation. “I think perhaps it is time for your Norie and I to call it a night and let you get back to your family,” he continued and pushed himself up from his seat. “Let us see if we can tear her apart from young Christina.”

“I will follow shortly,” HG informed him. “I need to wrap my mind around how best to approach Myka. There will be no rest tonight until we’ve hashed this out,” she added as she pushed both hands through her hair.

“We will not give up our search yet. However, I think it not premature to say that this is likely the safest option.” Rupert offered his granddaughter a crooked smile. “I will leave you to rehearse your speech. Certain to keep you on your toes, is a sharp witted wife,” he chuckled as he turned to make his way up the stairs.

Helena shook her head, mirroring his expression even as she anticipated the battle of wills she had to look forward to.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos. On to chapter two...

On a warm, clear day at the end of July, Steve and Jason arrived at Myka and Helena’s to find the driveway already full of cars and resigned to parking the Prius by the curb. Grabbing what they needed for their overnight stay, the couple wandered up to the front door and were immediately greeted by a very excited eleven year old.

“Uncle Steve, Jason!” Christina yelled from all of two feet away. “Did you remember everything? Have you got your suits? Do you know where you’ve got to stand?... Ooh, you did remember your passports, didn’t you? Mummy thinks that Uncle Pete will probably forget his and that Mama will wring his bloody neck.”

Steve chuckled and glanced at his husband as the girl continued to chatter, unaware that she was blocking the doorway. Thankfully, another occupant of the house came to investigate all the fuss and saved them.

“Christina. Darling, what have I told you about interrogating our guests on the doorstep? At least allow the poor blokes in first,” HG tried again to tell her daughter as she took the girl by the shoulders and guided her further into the hallway, leaving a gap for people to pass by. “Gentlemen, there are ear-defenders available if you so wish to partake. This one’s exuberance knows no bounds today,” she teased.

“We’re going to England tomorrow,” the nine-year-old responded as if that was all the explanation she needed. “And you and Mama are getting married this week.”

“Indeed we are,” Helena answered as she took the couple’s coats and hung them in the cupboard under the stairs. “Though after chasing you around for days, I shall be so fagged that I am likely to oversleep and miss the entire thing.” She led everyone into the kitchen where people were milling about, helping themselves to drinks and picking at the buffet that covered the table in the adjacent dining room. “Which neck will be on the block then?”

Having caught most of the conversation, Myka approached her fiancée from behind, sat hands on the inventor’s hips and placed her lips behind an ear whispering, “This neck?”

HG shivered and leant back into the brunette. “Uh-huh,” she breathed absently, her eyes unfocused for a fraction of a second. Long enough to bring knowing smirks to both men’s faces.

“Steve, Jason,” Myka greeted, reluctantly releasing her partner so that she could offer each of them a hug. “I hope your drive was ok.”

“It was fairly uneventful. Unless you count Jase’s attempts at every Aretha Franklin song on his iPod,” Steve poked fun at his partner.

The new Mr Jinks feigned offence, narrowing eyes that shone with amusement. “You said you liked my singing.”

Steve kissed the man’s cheek with a grin tugging at his lips. “I lied,” he answered. After hours of back and forth banter in the car, laughing about every little missed note, he was confident that there would be no offence taken.

“Well, we’ll give you some time to settle in,” Myka told them and stroked the top of her daughter’s head. “Though I’m sure you know where you’re going by now, I think the wedding planner would like to show you to your room.”

“I bet I can carry your bag, Steve!” Christina enthused as she sped back into the hallway.

“Christina, do not cause yourself an injury!” Helena called after her. “The last thing we need is a preteen with a broken leg,” she muttered to her fiancée.

“She’ll still run rings around us,” Myka joked. She stepped in front of the inventor and wrapped her arms around the Brit’s waist, bringing their bodies flush. “This time next week, we’ll be Mrs Myka and Helena Wells-Bering. Do you think it’s sunk in yet?”

“Each day with you is tantamount to living a dream; I do not think it will ever sink in,” HG whispered against the corner of her lover’s mouth. “You do well to never let me feel complacent though, future Mrs Being-Wells.”

The ongoing, teasing debate over whose surname to hyphenate first slid out of their thoughts once again as lips met and the regents lost themselves in one another for several minutes. A timid cough eventually broke through their haze and they turned to find their redheaded friend standing red-faced before them.

The incident with Helena’s grandparents returning from the ‘dead’ had set the three friends back some way, but over the months, they’d painstakingly managed to find common ground again, returning to the close chums they had been before, though eternally changed by everything they had endured to get there.

“Claudia, do we make you nervous, darling?” HG teased, recalling the first morning they’d spent together at the bed and breakfast.

“Pfft,” the caretaker said with a forced wave of her hand. “Me, nervous? As if. I just didn’t want to have to resuscitate either of you if you passed out while sucking face.”

“Charming as ever,” Helena smiled even as she shook her head. Some modern idioms just weren’t subtle enough for her taste.

Myka chuckled at the pair of them. “Everything ok, Claude?”

“Yep,” the redhead squeaked, her shuffling betraying her unease. “Pete dared me to throw a bucket of cold water on you two. He says it’s time for games.”

In hindsight, Myka thought that she totally should have seen it coming, but when the caretaker reached for a glass of water, she honestly assumed that the tech-whizz intended to drink it. Helena apparently thought otherwise and threw herself valiantly in front of her to save her from the brunt of the attack. The result was a fuming Brit with a very wet back.

“Claudia!” HG yelled after a streak of red.

“Sorry, HG!” came the faint reply.

What was play but just another method of learning? Games of chance, where statistics and probability became concrete and sorted the risk takers from the cautious, board games that encouraged shrewd investment and property management but also demonstrated how easily all could be lost through a series of bad luck or choices, team endeavours that promoted the necessity of understanding the skills of those around you and making them profitable for the majority, but also the understanding that skills are malleable and ever changing – all were useful lessons. And within all of this sat many shared fundamentals: cooperation, patience, observation, misdirection, communication, compassion, strength and more.

Play was never just play, but some games taught more to the players than others did.

It was four against four. Evade and capture in the forest beyond their property. Girls verses boys until Steve decided that wasn’t fair and traded Pete for Christina. The quarter-kilometre squared arena had been marked out the previous year by flagged trees. In case that didn’t stop players from wandering too far, they each wore a coloured arm-band that buzzed if they moved beyond the boundary of Helena’s security sensor. Panic buttons were another standard issue gadget. Christina had strict instructions never to take hers off.

Helena and Myka watched their daughter skip along the tree-line to high-five Steve, Jason and Kevin, while a disgruntled Pete stomped their way. The couple exchanged a look, sharing the feeling that this wasn’t going to be the easy win they had hoped for.

“I don’t understand. I don’t get traded. I’m always picked first,” Lattimer grumbled as he joined his new team.

Christina was the first into the trees once the whistle blew. Light and fast on her feet, she kept low and disappeared into the foliage. She felt her heart thrumming with excitement and smiled to herself, enjoying the challenge of trying to outsmart her parents.

After approximately one hundred and fifty metres, she slowed down and took in her surroundings. Spying a likely looking tree, she scaled the branches as quietly as possible and found a suitable perch from which to get a better look at her position and consider her next move. She liked to be unpredictable and tried not to use the same strategies with every game. _They will expect me to try to flank them from behind since I’m the fastest runner,_ she considered as she spotted movement from somewhere below and followed the sound of crunching leaves. She stifled a giggle as she spotted Pete trying to hide in a bush.

It would be so easy to sneak up behind him and tag him, but she wanted to give her teammates a chance to enjoy the game too and already had targets that were more challenging in mind. Knowing that she could take a wide-berth and creep passed her uncle, she decided to double back to their starting position and attempt to track the opposition from there.

Back in the garden, behind the teak-stained fence, the rest of the family remained, entertaining the toddlers and each other while the big kids had their fun.

Grandparents and great-grandparents had taken possession of the deckchairs and a generous patch of shade close to the veranda. They watched over the proceedings, amused by the delight their offspring exhibited but also somewhat disappointed that they couldn’t join in more. Though born centuries apart, like Helena and Myka, there was less than a decade between the Wells and Bering couples, biologically speaking. In their seventies and sixties respectively, not one of them felt the desire to be wandering through the forest or crawling around the sand pit. No - iced-tea and spirited conversation were activities far more to their liking.

Freddy, Daniel and Sophie, sporting wide brimmed-hats and smears of sun-cream, played under a pop-up gazebo next to the sand pit, under the watchful eye of the adults who remained. Occasionally, Fredrick’s gaze would wander towards the tree-line, watching and waiting. Whether he remembered seeing his immediate family wandering off in that direction, or whether he could sense something his playmates couldn’t, was something only he would ever know.

“How long do you think Kevin will last this time?” Lila asked Mrs Littlewood as she helped Daniel to build a staircase out of blocks. “They caught him in the first five minutes last time, didn’t they?”

“I honestly don’t think he cares much if he gets caught,” Tracy replied. “He just enjoys being out in the wilderness with them. I don’t think he ever got out of the city as a kid. I’d give him twenty minutes though; he has been getting better at hiding. Especially when there’s ironing that needs to be done,” she joked.

“Pete’s good with the ironing. He does a better job of it than I do. I think it must be something left over from his military days,” Lila commented. “I wish just a bit of the discipline had stayed, though according to his ex-wife, it’s never existed. It’s a wonder he lasted as long as he did with the marines.”

Abigail smiled to herself as she listened to the women chatting about their significant others. She always enjoyed being at Myka and Helena’s when they had so many guests around. There was rarely any arguing and when it did occur, it was usually between the children. It was a peaceful, happy place to be and it never ceased to amaze her that so many damaged souls could come together to heal one another.

“Have they got a time limit on this game?” she asked her companions, having arrived late and so having missed most of the build up.

“An hour,” Tracy answered. “Christina wanted to go for two and to see how many games they could get through in that time, but Myka wants the kids to wind down early tonight.”

“I’ve banned Pete from bedtime tonight,” Lila chuckled to herself. “I swear some nights he and Sophie have a pact to see how much noise and mess they can make before they collapse from exhaustion.”

As Tracy and Lila went back to comparing the daft things their families did at home, Christina found herself trapped in a self-made foxhole. Having found her parents and stalked them, she established something of a base to retreat to should her plan not work. Only, when the two women somehow managed to flank her, she went to ground and now knew that they were beginning to close in on her. Once they had her surrounded, she would have no choice but to fight, flee or surrender. Although there were contact rules in this game, she knew that they wouldn’t go easy on her if she did choose anything but surrender.

Concluding that her only way was up, Christina scrambled out of her hiding place and pushed herself from limb to limb until she was out of reach. They could climb too, but she banked on them not wanting to spook her into jumping down. Using the opposition’s weakness against them was an acceptable strategy.

“Looks like we found ourselves a monkey,” Myka whispered to her fiancée as she grinned up at their daughter.

Settling herself on a branch, legs swinging beneath her, Christina stuck her tongue out and grinned cheekily. Keeping one eye on the pair below, she tried to come up with an escape plan. She wondered where her teammates were and whether or not they’d already been captured. Deciding that she couldn’t guarantee assistance, she began scanning the ground for the best, unobstructed path and almost immediately after finding what she wanted, caught sight of a sturdy looking branch in the nearest tree that she could possibly leap on to.

It would be pointless to make the jump while her parents were almost entirely focussed on her though; jumping into a new tree without a way down would put her in the exact same position.

And that’s when she saw them.

First, a spark of light reflecting off Jason’s glasses as he crouched low and glanced her way, and then a tiny wave of a hand as their eyes met. He paused, watching carefully for opponents close by, and then zigzagged in an arc around the eleven-year-old’s current position. Steve was close behind his husband, though kept a consistent distance. He followed a similar path until he apparently decided that he’d gone far enough and came to a halt.

Hoping that she’d read the situation right, Christina decided that a distraction was in order. “Why don’t you climb up and get me, Mummy?” she taunted.

“I’m afraid I don’t see the point, my love. You have nowhere else to go and two bodies on the ground are more useful than one halfway up a tree.” HG explained in a conversational tone, as if nothing were unusual about their situation. “You cannot stay up there forever. You do realise this?”

“Of course. But it’s not such a bad spot to wait until you two give up and declared that I’m the winner.” She kept her gaze fixed on her parents, not daring to check what the others were doing. She also congratulated herself for getting off to a good start – neither of her parents seemed to notice that the inventor’s volume was rising ever so slightly. _Good, that means they’re distracted._

Myka chuckled. “You do not win automatically by being up a tree.”

“This is called a stale-mate,” Helena added, equally amused by the girl’s daring. “You too have the option of conceding.”

“Maybe I will,” the preteen pretended to think. “Will we have another game if I do?”

“I don’t think we’ll have time,” Myka frowned, beginning to merge back into ‘responsible mom’ mode without thinking.

“Aww,” tree-girl responded. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a figure much closer but resisted the urge to look. “I promise I won’t be tired in the morning.”

The women shook their heads in synchronisation. “You can’t promise not to be tired,” Myka reasoned. “You can promise to try and not be grumpy, but if you’re tired, it’ll be difficult.”

Helena felt something run through her, like a cool breeze passing over the back of her neck. Glancing up at her daughter’s face, she finally saw the hint of hyper-alertness that she hadn’t seen before. She reached out a hand to get her lover’s attention but paused as they watched the eleven-year-old rise from her seat and position herself as if she were ready to leap.

It was one of those moments in their games that Myka and Helena hated: when their child decided to push herself to her limits and took greater risks than usual. They both felt the approaching men now but knowing deep down that this was just a game, their attention remained on the girl as she dived from her branch and flew across a five-foot gap to land safely in the neighbouring tree.

 Long after they’d called an end to the game and declared Christina’s team the winners, the eleven-year-old continued to marvel at her death-defying leap, “Did you see that jump!?”

Helena and Myka were sufficiently proud of their little girl and told her so several times but after returning to the garden and sitting down with second helpings from the buffet table, the inventor calmly redirected the conversation. Pulling her daughter into a side-on hug, she whispered another ‘well done’ in her ear but gently suggested that she’d crowed enough for one day.

“Ok, Mum,” Christina accepted, deflating slightly as she looked into her mother’s warm, brown eyes. “It was a good jump though, wasn’t it?”

Chuckling at the girl’s sheer tenacity, HG squeezed her into a hug and blew raspberries all over her neck, until she couldn’t take any more and surrendered. Helena watched her go with a tender smile and the clarity that time waited for no one. Her babies grew like weeds and blossomed like orchids: strong, beautiful and cunning.

* * * * *

Not long after the sun rose the following morning, Christina hopped out of bed and tiptoed down the stairs, feeling far too excited to stay in bed another minute. Though not normally a layabout, she often liked to lie awake and gaze up at the constellations of stars her mothers had helped her to plot on the ceiling. This morning however, there was too much to look forward to beyond her bedroom door.

When she reached the kitchen and found no one else up yet, her shoulders sagged. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do and with resignation, she poured herself a glass of milk and wandered towards the back garden. Beams of sunlight already emblazoned the tops of the trees when she stepped outside and for several minutes, she pondered the successes of the day before.

“You do well to think on victory as well as on defeat. In both we find ourselves,” came an unbidden voice.

Christina turned with a ready smile and ran towards the unexpected visitor. “Grandma Elle!”

Eleanor braced herself for the hug that crushed her middle and kissed the top of the girl’s head. “Hello, dear. I did not expect to find you awake this early.”

“Mama made me go to bed early,” the eleven-year-old shrugged. “I tried to stay awake, to read, but I think I must have been tired after all.”

“A blessing I think, considering your bright countenance this morning,” the Wells matriarch replied, her wizened hand absentmindedly stroking a pinked cheek.

Christina grinned sheepishly and climbed up to sit next to her great-grandmother. “No one else is up yet. How ever did you manage to get out here?”

A mischievous grin tugged the regent’s mouth up at the corner. “The future is a fascinating place, young lady. So many ingenious inventions...” She reached into her handbag and removed a small item. “I believe this one is called...” she lowered her voice and glanced around as if checking that no one was listening to them. “... A key.”

The answering eye-roll was reminiscent of both of Christina’s parents. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“I thought so,” Eleanor replied, looking both entertained and triumphant.

“What did you say?” the preteen asked as she thought back to the words she’d heard when she first stepped outside.

Mrs Wells’ eyebrows scrunched together in rare confusion. “I beg your pardon? You will need to be more specific, petal.”

“When you surprised me; before I knew you were there. What did you say?”

“Ah,” Eleanor understood and paused to recall the words. “ _You do well to think on victory as well as on defeat. In both, we find ourselves.”_

Dark eyes chewed on those words. “What does it mean?”

“We are shaped by our experiences. In short, our successes and our failures. Though we prefer success to failure, both are equally important.”

“It’s important to fail?”

“Absolutely! It would take rare luck to succeed without ever having failed at anything. Nigh on impossible I imagine.” When her great-granddaughter continued to frown, she asked, “How do we learn to walk?”

It seemed an obvious question but the young girl was not entirely sure what the older woman wanted as she answered, “Put one foot in front of the other and balance?”

“In essence,” Eleanor nodded. “So how do we learn not to fall?”

As if a light-bulb lit inside her head, the eleven-year-old’s expression brightened. “We have to fall?”

“Precisely.” Mrs Wells smiled at the girl and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I am surprised that Helena has never discussed this with you before now. Inventors fail more than most in their careers.”

Christina appeared a little sheepish. “She may have mentioned it. I didn’t think on it too much before now.”

Deciding not to comment on this selective learning, Eleanor changed the topic. “Are you ready for our journey today? I do not think your mothers will be amused if we have to turn back for any forgotten items.”

“I’ve been writing a list of everything I’ll need since before Christmas. Everything is packed.” She wriggled a little in her seat, bringing her legs up to tuck under her body. “Mama made me pack twice because she wanted to double check, and she supervised when I asked if I could pack Freddy’s case. She already had a list. I don’t know why she wouldn’t let me do it by myself.” A tiny pout caught her bottom lip and she stared into the distance as she thought about yesterday, how much she could do on her own.

“You are wondering if she does not trust your ability to complete the task,” Mrs Wells concluded at once and shook her head. “Parents like to think they are in control; whether or not that is the reality of things.”

“I just wanted to help,” Christina elaborated, her eyes taking on a ‘kicked-puppy’ look as she gazed up at the older Victorian.

Eleanor saw the spitting image of her granddaughter in that look and reached to cup the girl’s face with her hand. “How like Helena you are sometimes. You are both of your mothers’ child, that much is clear, but there are moments when you express a particular emotion that I see her more sharply in your face.” She wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders and pulled her closer. “I will tell you what I once told my granddaughter: other people’s misgivings are often a reflection of their own insecurities, not your failings. Myka trusts you, but with her thoughts in turmoil over the wedding, she needs to see the evidence for her own peace of mind.”

Christina took the time to consider this piece of wisdom, and after a minute or two, she nodded. “That makes sense.”

Chuckling, Eleanor kissed the eleven-year-old’s head. “I am glad that you approve.”

“Are you worried about visiting England, grandma Elle?” Christina asked after a minute or so of silence. She tilted her head to assess the older woman’s face. “It’s been a very long time since you were there. Much longer than Mummy or I. Are you going to look for your house?”

“If I miss England at all, it is because of the fond memories I have of our family.” Things that she’d already dwelled on many times came back to the forefront of her mind. “Neither your great-grandfather nor I intend to visit the house we once lived in; it is home to us no longer. We do intend to visit your grandfather and uncle at the churchyard however,” she added solemnly.

A thoughtful silence fell on both of them, and then the wind changed and a warm breeze caught the hems of their skirts.

“May I join you?” the girl asked softly.

“So long as your parents approve, of course you may.” Mrs Wells gazed down into warm brown and focussed on a speck of green. “In this instance, even if they do not approve, I should like to think that I would risk taking you anyway.”

“They will let me,” Christina responded with confidence.

“How could you be so sure?”

“Mum should visit Uncle Charlie and Grandfather too.” An expression of determination fell over her features. “She will come.”

Two hours later, as the family and extended groups of friends managed to leave the house in some semblance of order, Christina sat next to her brother in the back of the car and thought back on her conversation with her great-grandmother. She had not set foot in England for a long time: even only counting her conscious awareness of time passing, it had been more than three years and she was looking forward to seeing the country in which she’d spent the former years of her life. In her suitcase, she had a scrapbook with a list of all the places she wanted to visit with her family - some that she remembered fondly from her past and some that she had never seen before.

A part of her had looked upon the trip as going home for a short while, but after hearing Grandma Elle’s comment about home being where their family was, Christina stopped to reconsider.

She had loved London when her mother was there but had loved it a little less every time the agent had to leave on another one of her business trips. Uncle Charlie had made it more bearable but she had always been happiest with the inventor around.

The bed and breakfast quickly felt like home with Myka there and she recalled the disappointment she’d felt when she thought that she and her Mummy were moving out without the American. Following that, Univille had provided a happy home for them so long as they were together.

Now, Boulder.

Her great-grandmother was right. Home would be where ever they lived together as a family. Still, for the next few weeks, old Blighty would hopefully provide them with lots of lovely new memories to treasure.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a particular fondness for this one. Not to create bias or anything. I did want to put a lot more detail into the following chapters since they happen to be set in the bloody crazy place that I live, but all of those road trips I planned for inspiration kind of fell by the wayside. Still, I think it's ok.

** Chapter Three **

Helena followed her wife-to-be through the airport, pushing a trolley full of luggage and holding her arm around her son’s middle as he sat atop the pile. Fredrick and Christina appeared to be taking it all in their strides, having visited airports more than once in the last year and having little to no experience of international travel from the Victorian era. The inventor reined in her slight trepidation as they advanced passed crowds, visually loud adverts and numerous fuelling stations for peckish travellers. As she glanced at her grandparents however, she noticed that the transition was not quite as easy for the older couple.

Though they had arrived in the middle of summer and the temperature was mild, rain was forecast for the evening and so the Wells couple had chosen longer coats to combine with their carryon bags. Rupert’s tan, three-quarter length overcoat had been tailored well to his size and, other than the colour, was very reminiscent of the type of coat he had worn as a younger man. His wife had decided to be a little more daring, wearing a deep-scarlet jacket, which cinched at the waist and hugged her hips. Capped sleeves cut short just above her wrists, showing off the matching watch and bracelet she wore. Despite outward appearances though, Eleanor’s hand held a little tighter than usual to her husband’s arm and two pairs of eyes darted back and forth, absorbing as much of their confusing surroundings as possible.

It was a relief to everyone to be settled into their hotel rooms after the long journey. Mr and Mrs Wells closed the door on the chaos of the modern world, giving the elder couple a chance to breathe and regroup.

In consideration for tired adults and over-excited children, they convened in the hotel’s restaurant for dinner and retired to their rooms immediately after. Pete was on his best behaviour even as Sophie tried to pull him into a contest over who could put the most food in their mouth without it falling out.

“What is your promised reward for behaving yourself at dinner?” Myka teased her friend as she settled Fredrick onto her hip, stroking her son’s head as it fell heavily against her shoulder.

Quickly catching the meaning behind the brunette’s words, Pete glanced at his girlfriend and back again. “I wish,” he said, longingly. His gaze then drifted to HG. “Your fiancée has promised that she won’t castrate me if I don’t embarrass you. I’ll need Little Pete if Lila ever wants me to touch her again.”

Remembering how her own moods had fluctuated during her pregnancy, Myka patted his shoulder with her free hand. “Hang in there,” she attempted to comfort him, though couldn’t contain the snigger that bubbled up from inside. Who would’ve guessed the day would come when _she_ was getting more than Pete? Another poorly-restrained chuckled escaped before she moved past him and following her daughter towards the stairs. As she approached, she just caught Helena’s tired voice.

“Love, shall we leave the stairs til the morning?” HG pleaded with Christina as the girl bypassed the elevator.

“No! Mama, you go in the lift. Mum and I will try to beat you to the room,” the preteen instructed. She deliberately didn’t look at the inventor, knowing that to do so meant not getting her own way. Her hand settled on the rail as she waited for Myka to approach and she leaned closer to her brother. “Ready, Freddy?”

Despite not understanding what his sister was asking, the toddler’s eyes lit up and he grinned around his thumb. Inside the lift, he pressed the button indicated by his Mama and watched his Mummy disappear after his sister, a resigned expression on her face. He watched his reflection in the shiny surface of the door and removed his self-grown pacifier for a moment to explain to his mother with a proud ‘ah’ that he could see her reflection too. Chuckling tiredly at the silly faces looking back at him, he lost himself in this entertainment until their upward momentum slowed and came to a halt. His expression remained fixed, and then the door opened and a grinning face stared back at him.

“Tina!” he squeaked, lunging forward with both arms.

Having expected the movement, Myka placed him on the floor and watched with a smile as he scampered after the eleven-year-old, to their room. Without looking, she reached a hand out to one side and found her partner. “Enjoy your run?”

HG scoffed. “If I were not so tired, I would send her to the top floor and back to the lobby a few more times to wear her out completely.”

“She’ll be asleep soon enough; she knows what will happen to that list of hers if she doesn’t go to bed on time,” Myka explained as they came in earshot of their daughter.

Hearing the underlying meaning behind the friendly threat, Christina’s expression turned sheepish. “Sorry, Mum,” she said with a tiny grin.

As promised, Christina got ready for bed and even helped to calm her brother down before kissing her parents and climbing beneath the covers. The children quickly dozed off, leaving Myka and Helena gawping at them for several seconds, waiting expectantly for the usual second wind of chatter and movement. With relief, and deciding that they deserved some tie to themselves, Helena disappeared into the bathroom and began filling the tub.

Surrounded by hot water and fragrant bubbles, the couple soaked for half an hour, chatting about anything and everything, but eventually returning to their most pressing concern.

“I know you originally wanted our wedding to be simpler. Are you sure you’re happy with everything, darling?” Helena fretted, her head tilting back against Myka’s chest to gaze up into her lover’s face.

Myka smiled at the pout on HG’s lips and leant forward to place a kiss on a furrowed brow; she would never get tired of feeling like she was the centre of the universe to this amazing woman. “And what would you do if I told you that I’d changed my mind about everything? We’re getting married in four days! Everything is fine, Helena.”

Looking back at their entwined legs, the inventor brought Myka’s hand to her mouth and turned it to kiss the brunette’s wrist. She closed her eyes and relaxed against her fiancée. “I would reverse the earth’s rotation if it made you happy.”

“As ridiculous as that is, I appreciate the sentiment.” Myka replied and resumed her task of decorating her fiancée’s shoulders with mounds of bubbles. “We might have spent more than I wanted to, but most of that money has gone towards accommodating our family and friends. Paying for our babysitters to vacation with the kids was not cheap, but as we don’t want them travelling home without us, that can’t really be helped.” She admired her handiwork for a moment and then reached for the conditioner. “The ceremony, the clothes and extras, they’re simple and elegant. I will be staring at you all day anyway so fancy accessories are pointless.”

“Hmm, I concur. Woes betide anyone who tries to monopolise my attention on Friday; I want to spend most of the day appreciating you in your wedding gown.” A tiny grin appeared at the corner of her mouth as she tried yet again to imagine the scene. “Is your mother still badgering you about where you should be spending your last night as an unmarried woman?”

“Yes, but I’m determined not to let her get to me. We are spending most of the day apart. I won’t sleep well without you and neither of us wants to feel like a zombie on our wedding day. Pete will tell you, zombie is not a good look for me.”

“Agreed, and I would like you to be focussed on something other than food when you eat me,” Helena responded deadpan, and then chuckled when she received a slap against her shoulder. Peeking one eye open, she added, “And you _are_ happy in regards to the change of name? I was so certain that you would vote to hyphenate Bering first.” She swirled letters across the surface of the water, thinking of all the times that her fellow agent had corrected her ‘Wells and Bering’ statements. “Do you know how many hours I spent practising Bering-Wells?”

Myka chuckled. “As much as I’ve loved teasing you all these years, your name was the first thing that gave me a concrete link to you. As a girl, I fell in love with HG Wells’ mind. Years later, Miss Wells, I fell in love with your personality, and soon after, your body.” As if to prove her point, she ran her hands down soapy arms and up along the sides of a torso, eliciting a gasp when she grazed her lover’s breasts. Helena glanced up with a hopeful expression and Myka smirked, changing the direction of her exploration to tangle her fingers in long strands of inky hair, taking the opportunity to rinse it. “I remember back at your grandparents’ house in London, when Eleanor had to call me Mrs Bering, how very much I wanted your name to be mine instead. Miss Bering is who I am, and I’m proud of that, but Mrs Wells-Bering is who I want to be.” She paused in her ministrations. “Are you ok with hyphenating Wells first?”

“If you stop teasing and bloody well touch me, you can call me anything you like,” Helena grumbled good-naturedly.

Pretending to be shocked by the request, the brunette let her hands rest on defined shoulders and leant closer to an ear to whisper, “I didn’t know we were indulging in the bath tonight.”

HG glanced up again, into amused green. “We can’t very well make love in there,” she pointed out and inclined her head towards the bedroom where their children slept soundly. “Darling,” she began plaintively. “Don’t make me beg. I have to be quiet enough as it is.”

“Are you sure you’ll manage? Bathrooms are notoriously echoic.”

“I won’t sleep otherwise,” the inventor pouted.

Having begun her tickling exploration again, Myka’s hands contradicted every word that came out of her mouth. “You could try meditation.”

Growling now, Helena grasped one of her fiancée’s hands and moved it to where she needed it most. “No amount of meditation is going to douse the fire you’ve started, darling.” She made eye contact and watched Myka’s expression as their entwined fingers slid through wetness that had nothing to do with the water around them.

Myka groaned and then bit her lip when she feared the sound was too loud. Pulling her hand away, she chuckled at the petulant sound that escaped her wife-to-be. “Turn over, Helena.”

Any other day, HG might have resisted and used their position to her advantage, but not today. Careful not to displace too much water, she rose from the bath, feeling her lover’s intent gaze on her glistening skin as she turned and gracefully sank back down. Once her knees were secure on either side of Myka’s legs, she slid forward and attacked the American’s mouth with her own.

It was easier to keep the noise to a reasonable level when they had the option of swallowing moans and pleas. Myka’s hands felt at home on Helena’s skin and delighted in every hill and valley. She wanted to take her time but as Helena’s movements became more demanding and erratic, she focussed her attention and eased the inventor through her climax.

When the water cooled too much for their comfort, they got out and went through their usual ablutions to prepare for bed, all the while catching each other’s admiring gazes and smiling around toothbrushes or through drying curtains of hair.

As they each slipped into their sleepwear, they naturally drifted towards where the single bed and travel cot sat. In sleep, Christina’s resemblance to her brother was more pronounced; her relaxed features softened and rounded her face, making her appear much younger.

“I’m going to miss them so much over the next couple of weeks,” Myka whispered, thinking forward to their honeymoon.

“As will I, love,” Helena responded and wrapped an arm around her fiancée’s waist. “I dread to think what manners and bad habits they will pick up after spending a week with Pete.”

“Lila will be with them too,” Myka reminded the inventor. “Plus Eleanor and Rupert, and Claudia for a couple of days. I’m sure they’ll counteract any damage he could do,” she added with a teasing hip-bump. She broke from the hold and pulled the fretting Brit into bed. “Come along, dear. One needs one’s beauty sleep,” she mocked.

“I am not being snobbish,” Helena grumbled as she pulled Myka’s arm around her and snuggled back into her body. “Besides which, I know that you more than appreciate my diction and correct use of grammar.” She turned her head so that she could see her lover’s profile. “My insatiable bibliophile.”

“Shh...” Myka mumbled, burying her nose in freshly washed hair. “Sleeping.”

“My arse,” HG hissed in retaliation. “You just don’t want to admit that I’m right.”

“It is a nice arse,” the brunette replied, her tone trying to reach for that elusive accent on the ‘ar’ in arse. She fell short and when her partner snorted in derision, she pinched the body part in question.

Helena yelped and immediately found a hand covering her mouth. They both froze and listened intently for any sign of movement. When they were sure that all was calm, a muffled ‘bloody hell’ came from her mouth and the hand covering it fell away. “You will get them back to sleep if they wake up,” she warned, sounding grumpy.

“Why me?”

“Darling, you are the one keeping us awake, and the one who insists on mauling my body.”

Aware that neither of them was helping the issue but, like a dog with a bone, unable to let go, Myka had a ready comeback, “I think you’ll find that a conversation is a two-way street. We’re both participating.”

“I wouldn’t have needed to participate if you’d just admitted that I’m irresistible, instead of changing the subject.”

“You would rather be right than rested?” Regent Bering asked as she tugged at the covers slightly.

“Not at all. I would much rather be both.” She tugged the covers back, instigating a small tug-of-war and felt defiance crawl into her mind.

They tussled for a minute or two, small grunts of effort and barely contained snorts of amusement escaping the pair of them until HG gained the upper hand and managed to capture Myka’s wrists as she threw a leg over her waist. The brunette glared at triumphant features, her eyes alive with desire, joy and exasperation. Mere seconds passed before Myka’s frown fell and her mouth split into a radiant smile. Unable to move her arms, and unwilling to attempt an escape, she rolled her hips and bit her lip.

Helena’s eyes widened. “If you keep that up, you will undo all of your hard work in the bathroom,” she warned, feeling a stirring in her lower regions.

“What hard work? You’re easy,” the prone woman responded cheekily. Seeing her lover’s narrowed gaze and realising how her comment could be taken out of context, she added softly, “You respond so easily to me, you make me feel like the most desirable woman in the world.”

Sitting up and sliding her hands along twin arms, HG smiled lovingly. “You absolutely are.”

The kiss that followed ended their playful spat and with accompanying touches, they snuggled back into the covers. Myka settled onto her back for a change and pulled Helena against her torso, dropping a kiss into her hair before closing her eyes and sighing her contentment. As had been their shared final thought of the day for the past few weeks, they both anticipated the day they would finally tie the knot.

* * * * *

The following morning, despite the tiring day and late-ish night, the family were dressed and walking down for breakfast at a reasonable hour. At the table, Eleanor and Rupert were already discussing the morning news while sharing a pot of tea and Myka caught enough of the end of their conversation to guess that, like Helena, they were not overly impressed with the social and political evolution of their birth country.

“It doesn’t say much for our gender when two of our female leaders have driven our country’s poorest into further destitution. Who killed socialism?” Mrs Wells complained as she threw the newspaper to one side in disgust before spotting the arrivals and finding something to smile about. “Good morning, dears. How are we all?” She held out one arm to invite Christina into the booth next to her and immediately monopolised her attention.

Helena held Fredrick on her hip while Myka went to fetch a high chair. She and her fiancée had been preparing their son for the wedding by dressing him in pseudo formal wear to get him used to the feel of them. This morning, he wore a lightweight, dove-grey shirt with a navy waist-coat and was drawing many adoring looks from the adults in the room. The inventor tickled him into submission as she strapped him into the child-seat and tag-teamed with her fiancée to fix a bib round his neck when his attention was elsewhere.

HG slid into a seat next to Christina and Myka followed so that they were sandwiched between their children. Since her daughter and grandmother were engaged in a serious debate about communication (snail mail verses e-mail), Helena divided her time between Rupert, Myka and Freddy as they ordered their breakfast and discussed their plans for the day. She turned to the brunette half an hour later, when they were tucking into bacon and eggs and there was still no sign of their friends.

“Pete does know that he and Claudia are taking you to your fitting today, doesn’t he? Your appointment is at ten,” she added while checking her watch to find out that it was now quarter to nine.

“He’ll be here, honey. Don’t worry so much.” She tussled with her son for a minute as she tried to secure a bib around his neck after he’d pulled it off again. “Pete is taking this very seriously, trust me.”

A distant ping of an elevator punctuated her statement and from around the corner came the man in question, with Sophie on his shoulders and both imitating the sound of an aeroplane. Myka caught Helena’s eye roll and chuckled at her fiancée.

When Claudia appeared out of nowhere at nine-thirty, the three friends took off for the day. Tracy, Kevin, Daniel, Jeannie and Warren had already made an early start to their day, heading out to see Buckingham Palace before it was crowded with tourists. The men had plans to see several landmarks over the course of the day, but Tracy and Jeannie were more interested in seeing Myka’s dress and had agreed to meet up at the tailors at eleven.

The day was somewhat overcast, with billowy, white clouds dominating the sky and occasional patches of azure blue peeking between them. A warm breeze filled the air and there was a general atmosphere of wellbeing as they passed fellow tourists and natives alike sporting shorts and t-shirts.

Their journey took them on foot along the Thames and passed buildings that were eerily familiar to Myka. Helena had been very subtly hush-hush about the tailor they were using and, with being so busy with her own list of jobs, the American had neglected to press the inventor for more information. As they neared their destination though, she shook her head and felt a stab of jealousy in the region of her stomach.

The shop looked nothing like it had when Lucile had owned it. Crystal-clear windows sparkled in the daylight, clearly having just been washed and a bright, cheerful and (most importantly) dust-free display looked down upon the street. The name Taylor J Faraday, written in gothic script above the door, was the only nod to the past and on top of her reawakened dislike of her fiancée’s ex-lover, Myka felt anxiety crawl through her veins; would she be getting the dress she wanted or some hideous, modern runway specimen?

Remembering that she had approved the design personally, she shook off her unease and stepped as boldly as she could up to the door. A pleasant tinkling greeted the trio and they glanced around to find a baby-faced man in a stylish short-sleeved shirt and pressed slacks, holding several items for a bald customer in scruffy jeans and a t-shirt. He glanced up at the sound of the door chime and found himself staring into forest-green eyes.

A beat, and then he smiled and danced towards the foot of the stairs. “TJ, she’s here!” The Americans glanced at one another in confusion as he winked in their direction and told them that Mr Faraday would be down to see Miss Bering in a jiffy.

TJ’s footsteps were heavy but swift on the stairs and he burst in to the room with all of the energy that one might express when greeting Hollywood royalty. He was built a lot like Pete, with broad shoulders and a physique that spoke of many hours spent working out. Grey hair and a slight paunch belayed his advancing years, but next to his crow’s feet, bright-blue eyes sparkled all manner of cordiality and merriment.

“Miss Bering,” he enthused as he took Myka by the hand and appraised her from head to toe. “You are every bit as beautiful as Miss Wells pained you,” he gushed, making Myka blush and her companions snort slightly, amused as they were by her obvious discomfort. “Pay them no mind, deary; a little natural rouge in the cheeks never hurt anyone. I have a room all set up for you in the back. I understand your mother and sister will be joining us before long?” He barely let his customer nod before he stalled any attempts to ask questions and ushered them through a curtain, and then through a door into what resembled a living room/cat-walk. “Go ahead and help yourselves to refreshments while I fetch your order.” He disappeared with the wave of a hand, leaving the trio alone.

“What the frack? How well does HG know this guy? He acts like she’s the queen.” Claudia twirled around the room, taking in the comfy but stylish furniture, the strategically placed mirrors and poked her head behind another curtain to find a spacious dressing room. “ _I_ want to try on wedding dresses in here!” She frowned as if the thought scared her and then quickly shrugged it off.

Myka continued to stand in the doorway for a moment before she too began to explore a little, following the red head’s path as Pete made a bee-line for the hors d’oeuvres. “I don’t know. A... friend of hers used to own this shop. I think he might be a distant relative. Maybe she traced him after McPherson released her from the bronze.”

“Well, I don’t think they were doin’ it,” Pete commented as he shoved three smoked-salmon and cream cheese blinis into his mouth. “Ib oo ow ot I ean,” he added and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Claudia picked up a glass of champagne, handed one to Myka and found some sparkling juice for Pete. She clinked their glasses in a quick toast and then took a generous sip. “Whatever the connection, I’m going to make the most of it.” She saw the frozen expression on her friend’s face and her confidence faltered. “Right?”

“I came here in 1890, with Helena and Christina.” She paused to consider how to word her disquiet. “The owner, Lucile Faraday, was... acquainted with Helena,” she finished, her tone making it clear what she meant.

“Yeesh,” Pete winced. “HG usually thinks these things through better.”

Myka considered this and caught his gaze. _He’s right. Helena would have thought this through carefully._ She allowed her mind to travel back to that day and those that followed. Yes, it had been awkward and upsetting for more than just herself, but there had been positives.

Just before Freddy came into the world, Helena explained how she fell in love with Myka that day: watching her in the garden with Christina, feeling that desperate need to care for her when she felt ill inside the carriage and the devastation when Myka had expressed her disappointment after Christina saw her kissing the tailor.

It gave her a heavy sense of relief to realise that this gesture had nothing to do with reminding her of past lovers or a thoughtless disregard for her feelings, but rather as a reminder of how significant Myka’s presence in her life was. As the memories of those weeks came flooding in, she also remembered that she wore one of Lucile’s dresses the night they first kissed. Or well, the night Helena first kissed _her._

A smile crept upon her lips and suddenly, all of those negative thoughts fled her. “It’s not about Lucile,” she began as she looked around with new eyes. “It’s about that day and what happened on the few occasions that I wore one of her gowns.”

Claudia had grown up an awful lot in the last few years and was no longer the young adult who shied away from the subject of sex. It was either this or something to do with the speed at which she was consuming her drink that prompted her to ask boldly, “Oooh yeah? And what might that include?”

The bride-to-be opened her mouth to deny the insinuation but her memory chose that moment to throw at her an image of a carriage ride and the ghostly sensation of a hand climbing along her thigh. All she could do in that moment was blush.

“Might want to go easy on the bubbles there, Claude,” Pete chuckled before flopping onto a squashy looking armchair with a plate full of food.

“I will if you leave some food for others,” the techie teased back.

“You both need to go easy,” Myka told them. “My mom and Tracy will want their share when they get here.”

Any further bickering came to an abrupt halt when TJ returned with a large garment bag slung over his arm and an older woman following silently in his shadow. He reverently draped the item over a nearby clothes rack and, rather than immediately zip it open, he gestured for everyone to sit down.

“Mr Faraday,” the regent began and then paused as he waved away the address and insisted that everyone call him by his initials. “TJ. I’m curious; how long have you known my fiancée?”

He appeared surprised for a moment and then chuckled. “Oh, she is a dark horse, isn’t she,” he declared and shook his head. “For a few years. If you want to hear the story, I’ll can tell it,” he added in a tone that suggested it would be an imposition if he _didn’t_ tell it. “A few years ago, shortly after my father died and I inherited the shop, business was struggling and I was having a particularly slow day.

“I sat in the shop front, contemplating my navel and the direction of my life when a whirlwind blew in off the street, threw me a disarming smile and asked to see my basement. I refused, naturally,” he gestured with both hands. “So, with the utmost politeness, she threatened to render me unconscious if I didn’t comply and then calmly pointed out that, not only would she still get her own way, but that such an action would leave me vulnerable to any rogue character that happened to pass by.”

“What did you choose?” Myka asked.

He appeared slightly sheepish. “Well, she looked like such a little thing...” His audience chuckled in tandem. “When I woke, she had slipped a pillow under my head and sat at the cashier’s desk, drinking tea...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my birthday's coming up this week. Reviews make great presents!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the kudos!  
> I'm a bit sleep deprived today, so apologies if I've missed any glaring errors.

_Taylor blinked as his world became brighter and his shop ceiling came into view. “Whaa?” he uttered stupidly as he attempted to right himself. His hand touched something soft and then a voice pulled at his attention._

_“Welcome back, dear,” the intruder smirked over the rim of a teacup. “Apologies for the forced nap, but I did warn you. Now, what do you say to something a little more civilised? I made a fresh pot: join me for a cup of tea.”_

_TJ got the impression that it was a command, not a request and considering how easily she had incapacitated him, he thought it best to comply this time. Still feeling a bit sore about the assault, naturally, he refused to be happy or grateful about it. “Did you find what you wanted to steal?” he wondered bitterly._

_The raven-haired beauty gradually settled her cup into its saucer and levelled a stare at blue eyes. “Steal is such an ugly word, darling. I was merely retrieving an item that I placed here for safe keeping some time ago.” She shrugged. “Again, I apologise if I was a little abrupt; I was in something of a hurry.”_

_An eyebrow shot up as Taylor eyeballed the calm manner in which she drank her tea. “It really looks like it,” he scoffed._

_“No need to be rude. I decided that we could be of mutual benefit to each other so I waited for you to wake.” Not pausing to hear if he approved, Helena drained her cup and laced fingers together. “Now. You are somehow related to a woman who used to own this shop – Lucile Faraday. Correct?”_

_Frowning now, TJ nodded and then added, “She was my great-aunt. She died when I was twelve.”_

_“And you followed in her footsteps?” the stranger asked._

_“What’s it to you? Who are you?”_

_“I do beg your pardon. How very remiss of me. Helena Wells,” she introduced herself, a hand reaching out to take his dumbfounded one._

_Taylor’s jaw dropped slightly. “Helena...” He shook his head as if dislodging a ridiculous thought. “My great-aunt talked about a Helena Wells. Are you related?”_

_“After a fashion,” HG smirked and then rearranged her features to appear less aloof. “Helena was a dear friend of Lucile’s. I believe she even made a few adjustments to the business to make it more profitable. She would have hated to see its legacy go to waste.” It pained her to talk about herself as if she were someone else but as she remembered that Warehouse agents were likely hot on her tail, she chose not to tempt fate by drawing unnecessary attention her way. “Is that your handiwork in the window?”_

_“Yes.” He seemed to sit up straighter, showing obvious pride for his creations._

_“Well, you appear to have inherited her talent for quality work. You don’t seem to be overly busy though.” She glanced around as if weighing up her options. “If you had an investor, how would you use the money?”_

_TJ blinked slowly. Was she serious? “You want me to believe that a woman who trespasses on my property and assaults me has the means to invest enough money in my shop to make it profitable again? We’re talking thousands of pounds!”_

_“I had assumed that with inflation it would be a great deal more than Lucile was given.” Helena glanced at the clock and sighed. “I really am in something of a rush, darling. We can work out the details later, when I’ve settled an unfortunate misunderstanding with my former employers, and when I have one of those portable telephones I have seen people using – they look very handy. All I need from you now is a simple yes or no.”_

“And you said yes to Lady Cuckoo?” Lattimer asked incredulously.

Taylor smiled forgivingly. “I had every reason to say no, but somehow, I believed that she really wanted to help and I was only going to get one shot at it.”

Myka tried to imagine her fiancée in those early days after her release from the bronze, and tried to understand what was going through Helena’s mind then. Had she felt more positive at that point or was she subconsciously trying to create reasons to be positive? “Helena kept your business going?”

“Yes, my dear, and now she owns half of it! We’re so busy now, I’ve had to think about opening another workshop.” He saw the surprise on his customer’s face and added gently, “By the end of the week, flower, you will have legal rights to half of the business too; I know Helena will want to share everything with you.”

“Hold on!” Claudia abruptly exclaimed. “Is this why HG had me writing that app software? I thought she was finally going to start selling her own gadgets!”

A soft smile remained on Myka’s features as they continued to discuss Helena’s involvement in the business and her sneakiness. Claudia spent a long time quizzing TJ about styles, commissions and friend discounts, but eventually she managed to remember that the day wasn’t about her. She placed her second empty glass of champagne on the table, jumped up, wobbled and then performed an impromptu jig to try to cover the fact that she was definitely tipsy.

“I want to see Myka in her dress!” Excitement burst from the red head. “I’ve known this day was coming since I caught the two love-birds making eyes at each other. While I was waiting to spontaneously combust, I might add,” she blurted, with little consideration for secrecy.

Hoping that the tailor would assume that it was an inside joke, Myka tried to protest, “We were not!” Her friends were having none of it and she huffed behind a growing smile. “Fine. You can’t blame us; we’re soul mates.”

“Regardless, I believe the fiery red-head is right; it’s time for you to see the last dress you will wear as an unmarried woman,” TJ announced and as he stood, his silent assistant appeared again from nowhere. While she began unzipping the garment bag, he stood in front of it and addressed the bride-to-be. “I very much hope you will like it but if for any reason there is something that doesn’t feel right, let us know. I want it to be your perfect, dream dress.”

If Myka was apprehensive before, she was doubly so now. _Don’t sweat,_ she told herself. _Please, don’t sweat._ Resisting the impulse to screw her eyes shut when the tailor stepped aside, she forced herself to look. She felt all her fears melt away as she took in the sight and gasped.

* * * * *

Having an agenda of their own, the Wells family waited until the remainder of their companions left before starting out on their day’s adventure. With relief, Helena managed to persuade her son to sit in his pushchair, knowing that it was quite a trek through Soho and Mayfair to get to Hyde Park. The walk alone would take the toddler hours, but it was the volume of traffic that concerned the inventor most. She recalled a time when she’d felt trepidation with her headstrong baby girl, who had wanted to walk everywhere regardless of the dangers. There might not have been the volume of traffic but a horse was just as capable of killing a small child as a car. As they set off, she thanked her stars that Fredrick was easier to barter with.

Or perhaps she was just more experienced now and less susceptible to pouts and tears.

* * * * *

Hearing a chuckle beside her, Myka closed her mouth with a snap but continued to admire the dress... _Her_ dress.

The skirt was a simple a-line design, off-white, flowing into a hint of a train and stitched from the bodice down in a weaving lace reminiscent of the bold designs found on vintage Victorian wallpaper, but coloured a delicate dove-grey that faded into the background hue towards the hem. The same pattern climbed along opaque satin, the shade darkening incrementally over a modest sweet-heart neckline until all that would remain beneath was skin. Lace continued up, over where Myka’s neck would be – the design deliberate in order to accentuate her height – and then past petal shaped sleeves and all the way down to the wrists. It was modern with a splash of old and better than the regent could ever have imagined.

“It’s ... holy cow,” the brunette murmured as she found herself unexpectedly on her feet and wandering over to take a closer look. What Taylor had said before, about this being the last dress she would wear as an unmarried woman, came rushing back to her, and she couldn’t help but add another thought: this would be the first thing she would wear as Mrs Myka Wells-Bering – as Helena’s wife. A tear sprang to her eye and she abruptly turned to pull the tailor into a very grateful hug. “Thank you,” she whispered before she realised what she was doing and pulled back to tug awkwardly at the cuff of her sleeve.

Chuckling jovially, TJ dismissed the thanks and gestured towards the changing room, insisting that she try it on. “Let’s make sure it fits in all the right places before you congratulate me too much.”

The unassuming assistant led Myka passed a curtain and welcomed Claudia too as there was more than enough room. The regent slapped her friend’s hands away as she teased Myka about needing help with her clothes, but when it came time to put the dress on, they could both see why the extra pair of hands was useful. It fit like a glove, but the layers had to be adjusted so that they would lie just right and there were so many buttons along the back that Claudia swore she would develop a phobia by the end of the week.

When the redhead caught sight of the back of the dress at a distance, she gave a low whistle. “You’ll be lucky if HG doesn’t injure herself once she gets a look at you from behind, Mykes. And I thought you were the dog’s bollocks from the front,” she added, dropping in her new favourite phrase.

The brunette rolled her eyes but turned to get the right angle so she could get a better look in the mirror. Though buttons formed a long line down her spine, Myka could see what had caused Claudia’s comment and felt her own eyes widen.

At first glance, she thought the pale tone was simply a continuation of the style under the lace – it was what she had assumed earlier when she had caught the occasional glance – but as she looked closer, she realised that most of her back was on show.

Panic must have shown in her eyes because in a heartbeat, the redhead was next to her, asking if she was ok. “It’s a bit revealing, don’t you think?” She was picturing herself standing in a room full of people. People who would be staring at her and Helena; she would feel naked enough without half of her body on show.

Claudia shrugged while trying not to appear too blasé. “Honestly, Mykes, you look hot! And not in a slutty way at all. It’s classy. I get why you have that ‘oh shit’ look on your face but if I was you, I’d totally be thinking ‘bout how much your wife is gonna want you on your wedding night,” she winked and bumped their shoulders together. When her friend’s expression didn’t waver much from its appearance of concern, she tried a different approach. “I saw the dress you wore for your high school reunion. Now _that_ revealed some skin!”

The regent blushed and chuckled uncomfortably. “I was trying to impress Kurt.”

Claudia scoffed. “Trying to prove to yourself that you weren’t going all ‘dear diary’ over a certain fugitive, more like.”

Myka paused and considered those words for a moment. She shook her head and chuckled again, this time with more actual humour. “God, you’re so right. I was falling for her even then.”

The red head’s eyes locked onto the bride-to-be through their reflections and sparkled with incredulity. “Well, duh! I had to spend that entire mission with you two having eye-sex and watching the little constant flutter of cartoon hearts popping round your heads.”

“We weren’t that bad,” the brunette insisted, refusing to believe that she’d been so unprofessional.

“Uh-huh. Even Pete has never glowed with that much ‘get-a-room-iness’,” Claudia continued to tease.

“Fine,” Myka conceded, knowing that she had no ground to argue from as she realised that most of her memories from that mission were of Helena, and that would do nothing but support her friend’s accusations. “It was love at first sight. Are you sure the dress is ok?”

From beyond the curtain, the sounds of chatting suddenly increased and Tracy’s voice could be heard above the din, asking what was taking her sister so long. Myka turned to her friend and took a deep breath, psyching herself up for the first big reveal.

It was fortunate that her mother and sister had wanted to do some sight-seeing after breakfast as it had given the regent time to ease herself into her task without concerning herself about their approval. It was an embedded instinct that was proving hard to kick. She would get there, she knew, it was just going to take time.

Running her hands down her sides one more time, Myka nodded to Claudia that she was ready and stood behind the curtain, waiting as the caretaker sneaked out, leaving her alone for a moment. _“You guys have awesome timing,”_ she heard and then found her thoughts drifting away from the room she was in and back to that mission with Godfrid’s spoon.

Had she and Helena really been so obvious, even back then? She remembered the confusion surrounding her need to be both close to and very far away from the Brit, and the subsequent anger that had infused her limbs when she and Claudia found her stealing from the coach’s office. She had convinced herself that she was just doing her job, subduing a dangerous fugitive, but she was rarely so forceful with someone who wasn’t fighting back. In hindsight, it had had more to do with fighting her own desires than duty as an agent.

She smiled to herself, recalling all the times her fiancée had teased her about those early meetings. Of course they had been so obvious; they were soul mates and they’d not been able to resist each other.

She thought back to the flashbacks she’d been subjected to during her time in Paris with Pete and remembered that many of them had also focussed on that day. A locket and her first glimpse of an eight-year-old girl that pulled at her heart strings for more than just sympathy for a grieving mother. Finding the girl in Limbo and feeling those same strings sing for the sound of uninhibited chatter and the sight of almost familiar eyes. Connections that she had been unable to see at the time.

They had come so far, their little family. It was time for the next big step.

“Hey, Myka? You ok in there?” Claudia’s voice came again, quieter and sounding marginally concerned before red hair poked through the gap in the curtain.

“Yeah, Claude,” the regent smiled, all of her worries about exposed skin and critical relatives vanishing in the shadow of her thoughts. “Was just reminding myself who this is all for.”

“Well, time to show off your moves now, Bering. Trust me, they’re gonna love this.” She winked and darted back through the curtain before clearing her throat and grabbing hold of the tassel to her right.

A drum roll from Pete, followed by an imitation of a trumpet and the fabric was folding back, exposing the blushing bride to the room. Lattimer’s predictable wolf-whistle barely registered over TJ’s boisterous clapping and the Bering women exploding with cries of shock and delight as both leapt from their chairs to get a closer look.

Jeannie had tears in her eyes as she approached her daughter and took her by the hands. “Oh, Myka,” she choked. “Oh, my little baby, you look so beautiful.”

To their mother’s left, Tracy stood with arms crossed and a smirk on her lips. “Just you wait ‘til she walks down the aisle, Mom. The second she catches sight of Helena, she going to light up like a Christmas tree!”

Blushing seemed to be the theme of the day and when she was asked for a twirl so they could take in the whole effect, Myka hoped that her burning cheeks were a sign that she’d be cool, calm and collected when it was time for the big day. If Helena’s dress was anything near as provocative as her own though, she might very well be blushing for an entirely different reason.

Once everyone was finished with their effusive admiration, Taylor stepped in to take notes on how Myka felt and whether there were any changes she wanted. With a sigh of relief and a slight pang of regret, Regent Bering returned behind the curtain to change back into her street clothes. Since she and Helena were the only ones who were having their clothes tailor made, it took very little time to say their goodbyes before they were stepping back onto the street and meandering a little bit as they tried to get their bearings. The effect of the champagne didn’t do much to help.

* * * * *

Having already decided that they could do without the experience of the London Underground, a trio of adults were intent on exploring within a foot-comfortable radius of their hotel and agreed that a quick run around in the fondly remembered Hyde Park would be a good start to the day.

HG strolled behind her grandmother and children, her grandfather beside her. “She’s more of a child than Christina some days,” she commented, feeling amused as she watched the Wells matriarch spurring the eleven-year-old along, hearing the occasional joy-filled squeal from her son when they pushed him faster or tilted him backward.

Rupert squeezed his granddaughter’s arm as they walked together and kept pace with the excited trio. “As much as she ever was when you were young. You need not age when you are young at heart,” he commented as he watched his wife. “So far as the soul goes at least. The body does not always follow suit,” he noted as they slowed and he saw Eleanor making efforts to temper her enthusiasm.

“I don’t feel so young these days.” Helena noted ruefully. “Not as I did when I was running around this city at night, chasing rumours of bizarre happenings, determined to show the boys how artefact hunting was supposed to be done,” she chuckled and shook her head. “I thought I knew it all.”

“A common affliction of the young,” Rupert allowed with patience. “Without which we would have nothing to feel superior about,” he joked.

“Until parents reach that point at which stubbornness begins to take precedence over wisdom and children must become the teachers as the world evolves around them,” HG countered. “Or one travels through time and experiences things for which one’s parent has no equivalent.”

“Touché,” Mr Wells responded. “I think we may yet have lessons to impart though, my dear.”

Helena caught her companion’s eye and smiled at the warm twinkle behind it. “Of that, I have no doubt. I am so very glad that you are both here, no matter the circumstances that reunited us.”

Rupert patted the hand that tightened on his arm. “We are honoured and humbled to be here with you, and I can only hope that all of this walking will help me to fit into my suit come Friday,” he commented, easing the heavy atmosphere as he was wont to do. “Remind me not to accompany your friend Pete again if ever he wants to sample food for a special occasion. That boy’s stomach must be constructed of cast iron.”

“Any occasion that involves food is special to Pete. I do believe that I warned you prior to you accepting his offer,” Helena reminded him with a raised brow.

“Your warning consisted of a glance very much like the one you are wearing now. How was I to know how very serious the situation was?” he countered, amused by their back and forth.

HG very nearly giggled as she pictured her grandfather’s confusion and amazement while accompanying Pete on his hunt for the perfect wedding buffet. “In future, I might simply fashion a sign that says ‘don’t’. I could hit you with it, if you would prefer?”

“That is perhaps a tad too blunt, my dear. There must be a happy, non-verbal medium.” Rupert pretended to wrack his brain and eventually shook his head in despair. “If only there were some way to use one’s head to produce a gesture of disapproval.”

The inventor rolled her eyes and tried not to smile. “If you have any reasonable suggestions, do let me know. Clearly, I am lacking in the area of non-verbal communication.”

“Unless it involves your wife-to-be,” Mr Wells noted with a jovial twinkle.

“True,” Helena agreed and smiled to herself with a faraway look in her eyes. “More often than not, if we don’t immediately know what the other is thinking through a look, we can get an impression through our rings.”

“How are they working out for you, now that you have split the artefacts’ properties?” Rupert asked curiously as he began to wonder how her experience differed from his own. He and Eleanor maintained a special connection but from what he’d already witnessed between his granddaughter and her partner, he knew that they had something unique.

HG thought back to the day that Claudia had borrowed Hephestus’s anvil from the Warehouse so that they could attempt to dilute the worrisome side-effects of Myka’s engagement ring by splitting it into Helena’s. Myka had continued to protest the idea right up until they were standing in their protected basement, looking down at the bulky artefact.

_Helena stood with her arms wrapped around her fiancée, her thumbs stroking soothing circles on opposite hipbones. “Darling, the Warehouse is not going to let us make things worse. Your illness served a purpose, but it won’t a second time.”_

_“We hope,” Myka countered. “You’re asking me to put a lot of faith into a theory that could cost one of us our life.”_

_“I’m asking you to have faith in me,” the inventor whispered gently into the shell of an ear. “Close your eyes, love, and feel it. This will make us stronger, not weaker.”_

_Myka did as she was told, closing her eyes and trying to feel past her concerns to bridge across their bond and immerse herself in her lover’s confidence. The fear of what might happen to her fiancée if something went wrong was forefront in her mind, and fighting her way through its murky depths was a feat in itself. Remembering Helena’s plea, she kept trying and eventually her efforts began to pay off._

_“It’s there,” she responded with relief after a couple of minutes. The bright hope and surety that shone through the dark lit her mind from inside and spread rapidly into her chest and limbs. “I feel it.”_

_“Trust me,” HG entreated again. “Trust us. Together, we are always stronger.”_

_The brunette released a long breath of air, emptying her lungs and attempting to push all of her doubts out along with it. Quiet wasn’t a natural state for her mind to be in but somehow, likely with help from Helena’s side, she managed to banish enough of those negative feelings to put a small smile on her face as she turned in her lover’s arms and ducked slightly to bring their lips together._

_“I trust you,” she murmured into the kiss, and her smile grew as she thought about the first night they made love after Christina’s resurrection. She was safe in Helena’s arms: mind, body and soul._

_Turning to the anvil after getting carried away and hearing Claudia clearing her throat, they offered their friend a mildly apologetic glance and HG began to remove her ring. It was a simple and elegant piece: a slim gold band that twisted in the centre to nestle around small, marquise-cut diamond. Once it was in place, the Brit reached for her fiancée’s hand and squeezed in reassurance. Beneath her calm surface, this was the part that concerned her most._

_Having to tease her ring, millimetre-by-millimetre, over the flesh and knuckles of her finger, Myka felt the heat and dizziness creep up on her, until the ring was off and sitting next to Helena’s. In seconds, she began to lose sense of where she was and watched a cape of night draw over her vision, plunging her into darkness with only a vague comprehension of someone’s arms catching her._

_Time held no meaning for her as she swam through the oblivion, a weight of non-control dragging her down. Not being able to count the seconds, minutes or hours passing, Myka was disorientated when she opened her eyes and found herself looking through a curtain of raven hair at her basement ceiling. Her gaze shifted and focussed on glassy, mahogany orbs before she sat up abruptly and glanced around to find the source of her lover’s distress._

_The first things she noticed were Claudia’s grin and a tinny ringing in her ears that grew fainter, until it dissipated altogether. The redhead leant on the handle of the giant hammer that came with the anvil and after a beat, nodded towards the brunette’s hand. She looked down to see that her ring had been replaced._

_“It worked?” she murmured past numb lips as she reached for Helena’s hand and pulled it closer to examine their artefacts together. At first, she noticed no difference but as her brain began to awaken further and her eyes adjusted to the light, a faint swirling of colours filled her vision. Gold and green strands, intertwined and moving around each other as if they were riding a twirling helix. “That’s... wow,” she whispered in awe._

_The sound of something heavy being placed down caught the regents’ attention and they looked up to see the caretaker hovering over them, searching for whatever had caused the brunette’s amazement. “What’s wow?” she asked impatiently._

_Helena entwined her fingers with Myka’s and watched the colours dance about excitedly. “Do you not see them?”_

_“See what?” Claudia responded, her tone edged with annoyance now._

_Having found her strength and orientation again, Myka managed to sit up, though she continued to lean back into her fiancée for the sheer pleasure of the contact. “They’re glowing Claude. Mine green and Helena’s gold, and the colours are sort of merging, like they’re attracted to each other... Helena, they’re us,” she added after a moment to let the thought sink in._

_Still stroking her fingers along her lover’s, Helena hummed in a faraway tone of agreement. She could feel the fading frantic rhythm from her heart after Myka had collapsed and she’d yelled at Claudia to ‘hit the bloody things already’. In that moment, the fear that she had successfully ignored up until that point, smacked her with the force of a freight train. Belief hadn’t come easily but it appeared to have paid off in the end._

“It’s comforting,” HG answered her grandfather as she thought about the changes they’d felt. A glance down at her hand and she smiled at the faint gold strands that drifted gently south-east of their position. “Not only is Myka no longer in danger of suffering a fatal illness if she removes her ring, but we are closer now and more in control of our connection.”

“How so?” Mr Wells asked dutifully.

“Distance appears to be less of an obstacle for a start.” The inventor watched her family approaching the crossing ahead and paused subconsciously to assess potential dangers. They crossed in peace and in the distance saw part of the wall that enclosed the famous park. “If I wanted to, I could sense how she is feeling right now and let her know how I am feeling. We have been testing the limits of this bond and while telepathy does not appear to be something we are capable of at this point in time, we have yet to rule it out.”

Rupert’s brow shot up to his receding hairline as he absorbed this information. An expression of wry amusement quickly followed. “Are you certain that sharing a telepathic link with your soon-to-be wife is a wise course of action?”

HG canted her head to one side and chuckled a little at the caution. “Perhaps not. But on the other hand, it could have hidden benefits,” she argued with a wink.

Far from being surprised by his granddaughter’s brashness, Rupert moved his shoulders in imitation of a shrug. “Speaking for your grandmother and I, we have never needed any encouragement in that area. From what I hear, neither do you and Miss Bering.”

A hint of a blush touched Helena’s cheeks. She cleared her throat to hide any further suggestion of embarrassment and abruptly increased her speed to catch up with the others.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was supposed to be updated yesterday but t'Internet wasn't up to the job. Sorry it's a day late! ;-)  
> Please read A/N at the end.

With Eleanor and the children now by Helena and Rupert’s sides, the Wells family entered the park at one of the east gates and took a leisurely stroll down memory lane. Since trees and bushes didn’t change much from one century to the next, it was much easier to feel at home amongst the greenery, the growing tranquillity only occasionally interrupted by gaggles of people who waved phones and shouted their social statuses at one another.

Fredrick was immediately enamoured by the great swathes of grass and the copses of trees dotted around. Christina performed cartwheels around him and helped him with a gambol or two before they slipped seamlessly into a game of hide and seek between the trunks of giants.

Along the designated path, the adults walked in a triangle with Helena taking the lead, her gaze fixed on her children as her chest filled with so much love that she thought she might burst. She made a conscious effort to share the overwhelming feeling her fiancée and as she felt an answering echo, she smiled to herself before reigning the connection back in.

Seeing the doting expression on her granddaughter’s face, Eleanor began to wish that she had a camera on her. “A moment to treasure,” she commented to her husband under her breath.

“Yes,” he replied in the same hushed tone. “It is gratifying to watch her with them. I regret not having seen more of her with Christina.”

“Much as it cannot be helped, and we cannot change it now, I concur. She was such a precious child and Helena so patient with her,” Eleanor reminisced.

“Charles too,” Rupert added. “At just a year old the child had him wrapped around her finger. Do you recall her third birthday?”

“The incident with the dessert? How could I forget?” Mrs Wells chuckled.

Tuning into the conversation, Helena kept one eye on her children while half turning to her grandparents. “I tried everything to get those stains out of her dress,” she grumbled. “I had to give it to the orphanage in the end; nothing would shift it. Suffice it to say that I was not the least bit sympathetic to Charles’ complaints about his own attire.”

“Being ill in tune with your brother’s day to day grievances? So very unlike you, dear,” Eleanor retorted through a controlled smirk.

HG scoffed, recalling the many pleas of her elders to ‘play nicely’ with her sibling. “I’ll have you know that the pompous arse only got worse after you left.”

“You always were in competition for that elusive top spot. Despite being older than you, Charles was always trying to claw his way out of your shadow, Little One.” Eleanor elaborated. “Was it really so surprising that he jumped at the opportunity for recognition when you found your hands full with Christina?”

Helena rolled her eyes but did so with a smile; it was familiarly satisfying to hear her grandmother refer to her persistent one-up-man-ship with her brother. Though she could look back now and lament the time she had spent trying to make Charles look stupid instead of enjoying his company, she knew that she would not have been able to act any other way. Competition was ingrained into her at that point and the injustice of being looked down upon simply as a result of her gender had filled her with the fire to fight back. Norie had been the constant fuel for that fire. It was pleasing too to feel a sense of kinship and support from the elder Wells again as that deeper connection had been somewhat lacking since their reunion.

“Christina mentioned that you would like to visit the cemetery while we’re here,” HG mentioned in a non-too-subtle attempt to change the subject. “I would like for Myka to join us if Christina does go,” she added.

“Of course, dear. We are _her_ family too after all,” Eleanor agreed, silently congratulating herself when dark, expressive eyes brightened.

Gradually, as they made their way around a tiny portion of the park, following the children’s drifting, Helena’s steps fell into rhythm with her grandparents’ and conversation began to flow more naturally. Rupert regaled his companions with oft-repeated tales of adolescent delinquency from his school days, while Eleanor contested every attempt to include more outlandish hyperbole, and HG chuckled at the pair of them as she occasionally added a teasing comment to the mix.

Off to one side, Fredrick giggled as his sister chased him around one side of a tree, disappeared and then reappeared in front of him with a big leap, making him squeal with joy and turn sharply.

“I’m coming to get you, Rick,” the eleven-year-old sing-songed behind the boy and made exaggerated advances towards him.

Though mostly sure and steady on his feet, an exposed tree-root became the toddler’s downfall. It leapt from the ground to grab at the toe of his right foot and left gravity to finish the job. There was a moment where his young mind tried to understand why the ground was so close to his face, and then numerous tiny nerve endings in his knees were sending signals to his brain, sounding the alarm and demanding the healing power of reassuring words and kisses.

Caring hands slid under the boy’s arms and helped him back on his feet before any of the adults had chance to react. Christina knelt in front of her brother, her eyes making a quick sweep of his small frame to assess for any damage. When it was obvious that he wasn’t seriously injured, she smiled and began to brush debris and dirt from his clothes.

“Oh dear, Freddy,” she chuckled lightly, peering into his face. “What happened?”

“Me fall down,” Fredrick explained tearily, hands bunching into fists to rub at his eyes. “Knees.”

Already pulling his grubby hands away from his face and reaching to give the injured areas a quick rub, she asked, “Your knees hurt?”

He joined her in rubbing his knees and whimpered plaintively, “Yeah.”

Trying a method that her mothers had used on her many times, she adopted a solemn expression and asked, “Do we need to chop them off?”

The toddler recognised the words that he too occasionally heard from their mothers and his lips twitched into a smile. “Nooo,” he laughed softly.

Seeing that the situation was under control, the adults lingered for a while on the fringes before the pull of her maternal instincts forced Helena across the grass to check on her children.

Spotting his mother, Fredrick threw his arms in the air and stumbled towards her. “Hurt, Mummy.”

The inventor scooped her son into the air. “I saw,” she told him and placed a kiss on his temple. “Did Dr Wells tend to your wounds?”

“Yeah,” he grinned and snuggled his head into his mother’s shoulder. Eager to play again, he soon wriggled in an effort to get down. “Race now!” he shouted once his feet were on the ground, and then took off at top speed.

* * * * *

When Myka and her entourage walked along the bank of the river later that day, sunlight appeared to follow their journey. Fuelled with either champagne or sugar, they chatted amicably about the interesting sights and the oddities of the natives, not really paying much attention to the growing, over-excited crowds until they turned onto a main thoroughfare and hit a wall of people.

It was her mother’s startled squeak that alerted Tracy to the nature of the celebration building around them. When a group of transvestites strode past, completely dolled up and unapologetically camp, Mrs Bering’s eyes nearly fell out of her head and Mrs Littlewood had to suppress a snort of amusement. By the time she caught her sister’s gaze, Myka had adopted a similar expression. She shook her head before spotting Pete, who was offering to take his shirt off for a selfie with a scantily clad man and Claudia, who was already paying to have her face painted.

“For God’s sake, Pete - keep your shirt on,” Myka pleaded sternly with her best friend as she pulled his hands away from his hem.

A chorus of disappointment swept up around them and Pete pouted. “You never let me do anything fun.”

Claudia, who had rainbows on both cheeks, turned to her companions and directed the artist to give them all matching decorations. “I have to go with Myka on this one, Lattimer. Imagine Sophie and little Pete Jr number two when they’re older. There they are, innocently surfing the web and... wait! Who is... Oh God, that’s my dad! I’m totes morti’ed, dude. Need therapy, STAT.”

“Come on guys, my kids are not going to be embarrassed by me; that’s just dumb,” he argued, looking back into the crowd and lamenting his missed chance to show off.

“Think about it this way, Pete. Do you really want to encourage your daughter to take her top off in public?” Myka reasoned and knew immediately that she’d won.

“Eep! Ok, point made; no more stripping,” he relented. Though it didn’t stop his eyes from skimming the crowd, possibly while contemplating the sacrifices one must make when becoming a parent.

“I think we need to be heading that way,” Tracy noted and gestured across a barrier-enclosed road where revellers were marching. “We’re supposed to be meeting at St. James’ Park, aren’t we?”

“Awesome!” Claudia squealed, drawing curious glances from those closest. “We can follow the parade to Trafalgar Square and head over to the park after.” She was scrolling through the screen of her phone, having searched for the parade route. “Myka, where’s the fam’ at now?”

Opening their connection and checking the continuous strand of gold that led from her ring, the regent replied, “Due west.”

Ignoring a few feeble protests from Mrs Bering, the group meandered happily along the pavement, admiring the decor of the floats and banners, and occasionally gawping at some of the more daring costumes. With another few quick swipes of her phone screen, the redhead connected half way around the world to her best friend.

“Hey, Poopy-Pants!” she yelled to half the street. “Guess where we are!”

“Claude?” Steve’s face peered through the screen. “Do you know what the time is?” he yawned and then leaned closer to the camera. “Did someone kiss your face?”

“Oops, my bad,” she offered with token remorse as she watched Agent Jinks rubbing sleep from his eyes. “You’re both missing all the good stuff though,” she whined. “This was from a unicorn,” she explained, pointing to her cheek. “And Pete’s already been told off for trying to strip.”

Agent Lattimer ducked behind the caretaker and into view of the camera. “Steve-O! You and JJ need to be here, man. There are dudes in panties all over the street!”

While Pete and Claudia caught Steve and Jason up on what was happening, Tracy chatted with her mother and Myka absorbed the atmosphere around them, gradually becoming aware of the echo of emotions that she was feeling from her fiancée. As they advanced upon their destination, the intensity of Helena’s enjoyment increased so rapidly that Myka was sure that they were both in motion. Before long, green eyes were scanning the opposite crowd, searching for the longed for figures of her family.

Their small party came to a halt when the regent slipped abruptly to one side and into a gap by the barrier. Pete made a grab for his friend’s phone, which prompted a small tug-of-war, while Tracy made teasing comments about her sister’s infatuation and Jeannie fretted about being late to meet her husband and Kevin for dinner, despite the fact that it was only half past one.

Mostly oblivious to all of this, Myka gazed through the throngs of revellers marching by, her eyes fixed on a vibrant pair staring back from the opposite side of the street. _I missed you... You’re beautiful..._ and _I love you,_ were concepts that floated across the ether and settled into the very depths of her heart.

Events from that morning and the previous evening assaulted her mind and her fingers began to itch with the desire to reach across the divide, to touch that hair, that skin, and to feel the thrill of knowing that her heart and soul were complete. Others around her faded into the background like specks of dust for a moment before her thoughts refocused and several voices filtered through in quick succession.

“... don’t known how we’re going to get across...”

“... bit of alright...”

“Mom, seriously...”

“But it’s my turn to show them!”

“... that hair... could lose my fingers in it...”

“No, Pete.”

“... could lose them in more than that...”

“... know what you mean.”

“Pfft! Like we’re not all thinking the same thing: MILF!”

“Mm-hm. Yummy mummy.”

Myka’s serene expression rapidly morphed into a frown as she tuned into a conversation that three young women were engaged in beside her. _Are they...?_ She observed the trio for a moment, following the path of their collective attention to land on a mother and two children. A mother and _her_ two children. A growl reached into her throat and fists clenched by her side.

The sensible part of her brain recognised that it was perfectly normal for anyone to look twice at Helena and want more – the woman was gorgeous after all. But some primal instinct took precedence, urging her to take action. It immediately consulted the logical centre of her brain, encouraging it to find a reason to have the three strangers arrested and imprisoned - preferably, until she could whisk her new wife out of the country. It seemed the most harmless course of action considering how much she just wanted to clout the tactless youngsters.

These thoughts couldn’t have played around her head for more than a few seconds but she felt a probing question that wasn’t her own and glanced back across to fix on an expression of concern that she knew all too well.

_What’s wrong?_ the inventor’s face said and Myka grudgingly nodded towards the source of her ire. The concern melted away, leaving behind a mask of mischief. A grin tugged at rouged lips and a dare rose into fathomless eyes, which taunted the American from across the gap. _So what are you going to do about it?_ they seemed to say.

It was a dare that quite clearly said, ‘I’m yours. Come and claim me’ and Myka felt her breath quicken with anticipation. Before she knew what her body was doing, she’d stepped closer to the trio, ignoring the hissed warnings from her friends, and drew her body up to its full height.

“You should see her first thing in the morning,” her voice husked with authority, making all three women jump at its close proximity. She eyed each one of them briefly, her gaze promising retribution if they continued to objectify her mate. “Sorry, ladies; she’s spoken for,” she added and then with a smirk, ducked nimbly under the barrier.

Myka swam across a river of bodies to the other side of the street, her eyes unmoving from her destination and arriving to simultaneous cries of “Mama!” Only the twin smiles of her children could successfully distract her from her task and she broke briefly to pull her daughter into a side-on hug and plant a kiss on her forehead before turning to blow a raspberry on her son’s cheek and ruffle his fluffy hair.

To the sound of cheering from companions she’d abandoned and a cacophony of dispirit and co-ordinated shouts from marchers and spectators alike, Myka stood before her fiancée and smiled in triumph.

Eyes rolling, Helena reached out a hand to grab at the front of her lover’s shirt. “We may as well give them what they want, darling,” she reasoned as she stepped closer. “Charity for the less fortunate? As one must be who does not have you.”

Resisting, Myka placed a hand against the Brit’s waist and avoided lips that leant closer to her own. “You know I’m not much of an exhibitionist,” she teased.

HG tugged harder, bringing her mouth to the corner of the brunette’s jaw. “Well then, why don’t you give _me_ what _I_ want instead?”

Hands rose to take hold of a proud jaw and Myka hesitated just long enough to appreciate the gift she cherished before claiming Helena’s mouth with her own. They kept their embrace light, aware that they were surrounded by strangers, but it wasn’t a kiss without passion and as shouts and whistles of appreciation flew around them, they smiled.

As they gradually came up for air, Helena brought a thumb up to the corner of her lover’s lips to wipe away a trace of lipstick. “There,” she whispered victoriously. “That should show them that you’re well and truly taken.”

Eyebrows narrowed over confused green before relaxing again. “They were looking at you, Helena,” the brunette smiled.

Amusement passed across the inventor’s gaze as it often did when her mate failed to appreciate her own appeal and Helena had an opportunity to prove the brunette wrong. She leant forward again to whisper into the shell of an ear, “Not those adolescent hussies, I was referring to the two behind you, who, not two minutes ago, were quite blatantly coveting my bride-to-be.”

Clearly surprised by this piece of information, Myka half turned to glance behind her and couldn’t miss the furtive looks darting her way. She blushed. “I guess we’re quite a sight amongst this crowd,” she grinned sheepishly and turned to her daughter again, needing to distract herself from the unexpected attention.

“The two of you are an inspiration to many here, I imagine,” Mrs Wells’ voice joined their little group.

Now ensconced in her Mama’s arms, Christina tipped her head back, looking towards Myka’s upside-down face. “You and Mum are very pretty.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Myka responded. “But I think Grandma Ellie was referring to us as a family. Many people here will have experienced difficulties with being accepted in society.”

The eleven-year-old’s face became thoughtful and she stared across the crowd. “Like Nanny Bering was with you?”

“Yes, like that. Sometimes more difficult than that,” Myka added seriously before taking in the jovial atmosphere around them. “That’s why all of these people are here today, to celebrate diversity and share that with people who feel the same way.”

“And to remind those who remain trapped in their narrow-minded bigotry that we will fight for equality and acceptance,” Helena added. “We will not go gentle into that good night.”

“Like the suffragettes?” Christina wondered.

“And anyone else who ever stood up for their rights,” Myka concluded.

Since Freddy was flagging, by the time the last of the parade drifted away and their extended family managed to cross over to greet them, most decided to grab lunch and head back to the hotel early. Still feeling the buzz of the morning though, Pete and Claudia announced that they were going to check out the facilities at Trafalgar Square and agreed that they would return for the evening meal.

* * * * *

“Did you like your dress, Mama?” Christina asked as she crawled into her bed later that night and picked up the book she’d been reading.

Myka fluffed the pillow and placed it where her daughter usually liked it while a far-off smile tugged at her lips. “I did. It’s a little more elaborate than I asked for but I love it. Mr Faraday definitely inherited his great-aunt’s flare.”

Her book lying forgotten for a moment, the eleven-year-old frowned and appeared to get lost in thought. “Is Lucile his great-aunt?” she asked in a whisper, though it was unlikely that her other mother would hear her over her brother’s bath time antics.

“She was, sweetheart. She passed the business on to his father to pass on to him when she died.” Myka watched the girl closely for any signs of distress as she said this. Though she and Helena had agreed to be as straightforward as possible about the deaths of people Christina had once known, neither of them was sure just how their daughter would react.

“I didn’t like her,” the girl blurted sulkily.

The regent suppressed a chuckle and squeezed a leg beneath the covers to offer comfort. “She was a good woman, Christina. She doesn’t deserve our rancour simply because she and your mum had a somewhat romantic relationship.”

“Mum loved _you._ Lucile should not have kissed her,” the eleven-year-old grumbled stubbornly.

“Your mum barely knew me. We weren’t together. Neither she nor Lucile did anything wrong, sweetie,” Myka tried to reason.

“I still don’t like her,” Christina pouted, “but I’m glad you liked your dress. I wish I could see it.”

At this, Myka clicked her tongue. “You were the one who insisted that you wanted it to be a surprise!”

“But now I’m curious!” Christina shot back, her face bright with a cheeky grin.

“As I suspected you would be,” Myka concluded with mock exasperation before she reached out to tap the end of a scrunched nose. “I think you will enjoy being surprised though. I know that I’m looking forward to seeing how handsome you and Freddy look in your new outfits. Aunt Tracy thinks it’s very funny that she will be allowed to see them before your mum and I do.”

“I can’t wait for Friday to come!” Christina rejoiced and bounced up onto her knees just as the bathroom door swung open.

“Dear, should we not be calming the children down ready for sleep rather than winding them up?” Helena asked her fiancée as she witnessed their pre-teen’s exuberance.

Myka raised one eyebrow in amusement and watched silently as her son came tearing out from a steam-filled bathroom, naked as the day he was born and dragging her childhood teddy behind him. Far from being relaxed by his bath, the toddler threw himself at the double bed and attempted to scale the side of the mattress, using the covers as a rope and a nearby stool as a foothold.

“You were saying?” the brunette countered from her position on their daughter’s bed.

HG rolled her eyes and flopped back on the bed. She canted her head to one side, smiling at her son’s triumphant expression as he face-planted into the duvet and toppled sideways. Any irritation that she’d harboured moments before vanished in seconds. Shuffling close, she stopped as her nose almost touched his and smiled into his eyes before grabbing his pyjamas and helping him to dress.

“It is time for bed,” she informed him calmly.

“No,” he argued, his chubby fingers reaching to play with her hair.

“You are sleepy,” she tried again, hoping that the affirmation would immediately put him out.

Grinning, Fredrick scrambled forward and threw himself over her torso. “No!”

“You need to lie down and close your eyes,” HG gasped as she felt his weight compress her chest.

“No!” the boy giggled, his bottom now in the air and his voice muffled by a pillow. “Me want ‘torwies, Mummy.”

“I want stories,” the inventor corrected automatically and then chuckled to herself when both children responded with heartfelt ‘me too’s.

Taking pity on her partner, Myka communicated silently with Christina and both of them rose to clamber onto the double bed.

The brunette ran a hand along Helena’s hip and lifted their son into her arms so the other woman could sit up. “Why don’t we all read together tonight?” she suggested as she pulled the covers back and slipped beneath them.

Helena sighed with relief and followed suit. Fluffing up the pillows, she made herself comfortable and welcomed Fredrick into her arms. Myka snuggled up next to her and Christina curled up against her Mama’s flank. “What are we reading then?” she asked as she turned to the eleven-year-old.

“Chitty-Chitty, Bang-Bang,” Christina announced and passed the book to Myka.

“Me wead!” Freddy announced and made a grab for the book.

“A-ah!” Helena intercepted. “Not tonight, my eager little munchkin. You have a very special job to perform.” He stared up at her curiously and she couldn’t resist stroking a hand along his hair. “I need you to lie here and keep me warm. Can you do that?”

His face appeared conflicted for a moment before he decided that it sounded like a job he would like and allowed his head to fall heavily against his Mummy’s chest. Fingers landed on his head and began to swirl in random, soothing patterns, and almost immediately, his eyes blinked slowly.

“I’m reading then?” Myka assumed as she was left with the only pair of hands free. With sounds of consent all round, she opened to the chapter where Mr Potts reveals the re-imagined car, and then began to read.

Half an hour passed before Fredrick stopped wriggling and commenting on the story. Once his thumb made its way into his mouth however, his eyes closed and his body became limp. Helena gave Myka a gentle budge and the American leant forward just far enough to see that their son was indeed fast asleep. Christina was beginning to drift too but requested, and was granted another half an hour to read herself into a stupor, leaving the adults with the task of moving the snoozing toddler without waking him.

Myka snapped a picture on her phone before rounding the bed to think through this conundrum. Freddy had one hand wrapped around the inventor’s neck and the other: both in his mouth and curled around the collar of her pyjama top. “Should I lift him or lift you?” she wondered aloud.

Helena peered down at her charge as best she could and pursed her lips. “I could just stay here?” she considered, feeling defeated.

“You’ll regret it in the morning when your neck aches,” Myka warned.

An eyebrow rose. “You wouldn’t offer me a massage?”

“We’ll have time for _that_ next week. I assume that you would like to have full movement for when that happens?” Myka teased back.

Dark eyes brightened with interest. “You assume correctly. Help me up then, darling.”

With the utmost care, HG managed to get to her feet without jostling her son too much and lowered him into the roll-away crib. There was a tense moment when his back hit the mattress and his mother’s warmth moved away; he whimpered as his eyes opened for a fraction of a second, a frown marring his features before his head lolled and sank into the pillow.

“Why didn’t you tell me who’s making our wedding outfits?” the American asked her fiancée when they finally made it to bed later that night.

Helena hesitated briefly, her arm sliding tighter around a toned waist as she dropped a kiss on the back of a head of curly hair. “I didn’t want you to carry around past grievances when you should have been free to anticipate our nuptials in peace. It was a calculated omission, love. I’m sorry.”

Thoughts tumbled around her head, merging with the echo of her lover’s nervous anticipation across their bond. Eventually, she decided that the Brit’s instincts had been on the money. “It’s fine, Helena,” she finally whispered. “I probably would have focussed far too much on the name and less on the dress, you’re right.” She turned her head far enough to glance back at the Victorian time traveller and met the kiss that reached for her. “I know we talk a lot about not wanting to harbour secrets but since we became more connected, I...”

“You understand my motivations better so secrets become less destructive.” HG smiled against a shoulder. “It doesn’t mean that you didn’t trust me before.”

Myka’s body relaxed with relief at not having to explain herself further. “Exactly. Sometimes I wish we could have had this connection back when you were debronzed.”

Helena remained reticent for several seconds while she tried to imagine how they would have dealt with the same level of intimacy. Knowing that her mind had been a dark place back then, the idea of her lover being privy to that scared her. “I do not believe that we were ready to be so vulnerable with each other at the time.”

“Mmm. You’re probably right. We both had thick walls. I imagine it would have felt more like an intrusion than a comfort.” Snuggling back a little, she hummed contentedly and let her eyes drift shut. “But, honey?”

“Hmm?”

Myka lifted a pale hand to her lips. “You were never _that_ scary.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I moved London Pride to August instead of the end of June/beginning of July. I was walking to work one day, daydreaming the next part of the story and I just couldn't resist the idea of Pete stripping for men (like he did for Steve in canon) and young lesbians drooling all over our OTP. Plus, Jeannie needs constant reminders that alternate life styles deserve to be celebrated.
> 
> Also, how cute is Freddy at the end? I could just munch him up!
> 
> Confession: I'm struggling with finding consistent ground with these rings. I don't have time to go back and re-edit, so fingers crossed that my many hours of agonising is going to pay off in the end


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I spent a bit too long agonising over the music in this chapter. I normally don't listen to music as I write but I wanted the feel for the wedding to be just right. I would recommend listening to: Adagio for Strings (Samuel Barber), Vocalise Opus 34 (Sergei Rachmaninoff) and Canon In D Major (Johann Pachelbel). They're all lovely pieces.

Crouched behind a large boulder, the Norman soldier scanned the horizon, searching for the opposing army. The motte dropped off into a steep decline over green that was dotted liberally with wild flowers and teemed with the busy bodies of birds, bees and butterflies. Battle was the last thing on the mind of any creature in the near vicinity but still the soldier kept a vigilant eye on the distant hills.

Overhead, a mid-afternoon sun warmed the dry earth and somewhere not too far away, many excited voices rose and fell rhythmically. Closer, a twig snapped, forcing the soldier’s head round. Too late; she hadn’t noticed his flanking approach and now she was in trouble! Two beefy arms tucked around her middle and lifted her effortlessly from the ground.

She squealed dramatically, the sound filling the air and disturbing the tranquil atmosphere until it morphed into giggles and gradually dissolved into quiet snorts.

“Come on, Sir Lancelot,” Pete’s voice came from above, “time to get your folks hitched.”

Lush green fell away one lumbering step at a time until old stone walls blocked the view entirely and Christina found herself on her feet. “Are you sure they’re ready?” she asked as she placed both hands on her hips and levelled a stare at the soft giant.

Twice her parents had attempted to start the ceremony and twice her brother had insisted that he had to use the potty, requiring one or the other mother to see to his needs. A toilet training toddler was apparently the one thing that no one had considered as the element that would hold up proceeding. Still, the site was theirs for the evening, the weather forecast was good and no one amongst their party was in any way inconvenienced by the delay.

In fact, considering all of the horrors that they had attempted to plan for, the attention seeking antics of a developing bladder was more comical than annoying.

“Yeah, CJ, we’re sure. Your moms are ready and the littlest engine who could has stopped leaking fluid. You’re up first, kiddo,” he told her and offered up a high-five for luck before pointing her towards her entry point.

* * * * *

HG kissed her son one more time as her soon-to-be sister-in-law coaxed him away again, leaving her to await the signal for her walk to the altar. Unable to sit still, she paced the short distance across her make shift dressing room and tried not to let nerves get the better of her.

Married. Within the hour, she would become another participant in a long line of people who had succumbed to convention and said ‘I do’. She would join an institution that, for many years, she had abhorred and rejected. Why then was she so eager to take that last step?

As a young woman, she recalled the pity she had felt for so many of her acquaintances and it occurred to her that perhaps she had been the one more in need of its receipt. Not because she refused to marry but because she had been unable to understand the unbridled joy in knowing that you have found the one person who makes you feel more complete than you ever thought it possible to be.

“What do you suppose is holding things up now?” she fretted, addressing the redhead who had been helping her to get ready.

“CJ went off to play when you were seeing to Freddy. Pete’s gone to get her.” Claudia scuffed a foot against the rug, trying not to fidget with her suit. “Chill, HG. Any minute now.”

Helena nodded. She had a brief moment of panic as she imagined her daughter wandering off while the adults were all otherwise occupied but forced herself to relax as she remembered the lengths she and Myka had gone to in order to ensure that very thing didn’t happen.

“Do I look alright?” she asked as she too began to fuss with her clothes.

She didn’t know it yet, but her dress was a striking opposite to her fiancée’s and yet the effort to make them complement each other must have been great.

Her arms were bare up to her shoulders, where the bodice began in a style that very much resembled a waist-coat. It wasn’t obvious from directly in front, but for anyone standing closer enough, the dip in the neckline offered a fair view of cleavage. For Myka, who she expected would be wrapped around her for the rest of the day, there was ample reason for distraction.

Her ‘skirt’ was a cleverly designed pair of suit trousers that flared at specific points to make the legs appear as one complete piece, and shaped in such a way that it made her look taller, even before she slipped her heels on.

Her entire outfit was a soft grey, bordering on silver, with the off-white of her fiancée’s dress woven into the detail. They had both asked for simple and elegant, but like Myka, Helena was pleasantly surprised by the designer’s embellishments.

“HG, you look awesome, you have to know that,” the caretaker responded as she moved to stand behind her friend and check them both out in the mirror. Claudia wore a waist-coat of her own design, complete with a pocket watch and chain, gears for buttons and a selection of home-made badges along the left collar. Her tie depicted an intricate weaving of gold and black machine parts and sat loosely beneath an unfastened top button of a pressed cotton shirt. “We both look hot, but you are something else in that dress... suit... dress... thing,” she answered and stuck her head out of the door one more time.

“So long as it’s good enough for Myka,” the inventor decided aloud. “I miss her,” she whispered and smiled to herself.

“Well, you’re about to go and make this fairy-tale legally official ‘cuz we’ve just had the bat-signal, Bruce.”

“Righty-ho then,” Helena muttered and took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

* * * * *

“I’m not ready,” Myka stressed as she glanced in the mirror for the umpteenth time and felt her insides churn.

Tracy shook her head at her sister’s ridiculous behaviour but bit her tongue against the worst of the comments that wanted to escape her mouth. “What aren’t you ready for?” she prodded gently.

“This!”

“This what?” the younger sister repeated with confusion written all over her face. “All I see is you in a dress.”

“Exactly!” She wanted to run her fingers through her hair but kept catching sight of the elaborate style that her mother and sister had spent half of the morning on.

“Myka, most women would kill to look as amazing as you do right now. I don’t understand why you’re freaking out.”

“What if I trip over? Everyone’s going to be looking at me; I’m bound to do something stupid.” She stopped stalking the small changing room and turned towards her maid of honour, face serious and hands planted firmly on her hips. “Helena is going to look incredible and elegant, as she always does. She’s going to glide along that carpet and I’m going to stumble my way to her and make a complete idiot of myself.” She could feel her fears building in the back of her mind and held onto threatening tears with an iron fist.

Tracy stuck her head out of the door and requested another five-minute delay before turning back to the panicking bride. “Myka, Dad is waiting just out there to escort you down the aisle,” she began in her calmest tone. “He won’t let you fall. On my wedding day, he held so tight to my arm, I thought he wasn’t going to let me go.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Do you remember how nervous I was? I barely ate anything all morning and my legs were shaking when we started that walk,” she recalled as a smile began to tug at her lips. “And when he did finally let go, Kevin was right there to take my hand, just like Helena will be,” she added, knowing that mentioning the Brit would calm her older sister quicker than anything. “You have nothing to worry about because even on the slim chance that you did stumble, we’ll all be there to help you back up, especially the woman you’re going out there to marry.”

“I’m being ridiculous,” the regent realised and let some of the tension go with a heavy sigh.

“Yes, you are,” Tracy chuckled, “but it’s your wedding day so you’re allowed to lose it at least a little bit. Think you’re ready to meet your bride?”

Green eyes closed and instead of imagining every disaster that could possibly befall her journey down the aisle, Myka pictured her lover’s face as they finally met at the altar and joined hands. She resisted the urge to re-open and reach out through their bond, to find comfort in Helena’s echo, preferring to savour that anticipation just a little longer.

“Yes,” he beamed at last. “Let’s do this.”

* * * * *

Rupert stood patiently outside of his granddaughter’s dressing room and chuckled to himself sporadically as he caught snippets of her conversation with the young caretaker. The excitement and trepidation in her voice brought a warmth to his heart that, for a long time, he had dared not hope to feel. Having spoken to his son many times to console George on the subject of Helena’s lifestyle choices, he had hidden his own concerns as a subtle way of protecting her. Eleanor had tried her best to do the same with Genevieve and in that fashion, the young agent had enjoyed a higher level of freedom than she might otherwise have done.

It was gratifying to know that their faith and patience had brought them to this day. He knew without a doubt that Myka was the person who completed his singular granddaughter. When he and Eleanor made their final departure from this world, they would leave knowing for certain that their Little One was well cared for.

He watched from a distance as Christina reappeared and Agent Nielson gave him an impatient wave. He rapped on the frame of the door to signal that they were ready and then waited with baited breath.

* * * * *

Vanessa ignored her boyfriend’s grumbling as she tugged at his clothes to make them sit more easily around his stubborn frame. “Stop squirming, Artie. I swear, you’re worse than little Freddy.”

“Why did I have to wear this again?” he huffed as he continued to test the limits of his movement.

“You’re officiating,” she reminded him with a roll of her eyes. “You’re going to stand in front of two of your best agents, who are both going to look stunning by the way, and you’re going to guide them through their vows. Do you want to look like you do every other day of the week?”

“I want to be comfortable,” he grumbled, though there was a noted decline in his fidgeting.

She smiled, shook her head and kissed his cheek. “You clean up nicely. I look forward to dancing with you later.”

His trademark sourness faded instantly and without thinking about it, he stood taller, blushed and cleared his throat. Before he could respond with his own compliments and hopes for the remainder of the day, two large, frantic hands grabbed the front of his jacket and tore his attention away.

“Artie! Tell me you’ve seen it!” Pete begged, his eyes wild. “I’m so dead. They’re gonna kill me. I swear: I only put it down for a minute.”

Appearing smug, the director reached into an inside pocket and removed a small item. “Is _this_ what you’re looking for?”

“Yes! Thank you, you’re a lifesaver! Man, where did you find it?” Agent Lattimer wondered as he grabbed the ring and tucked it away.

“I watched you hide it under your seat when you went to fetch CJ,” Artie smirked. “If you value something, keep an eye on it.”

“That’s cold, Artie. I had visions of HG burying me under the drawbridge,” he complained.

The older man shook his head again. “There’s no moat around this castle. No moat: no drawbridge. I imagined her skewering you with the portcullis,” he added cheerfully. “Now, are we ready to get started or do you need to change your pants?”

Pete puffed out his chest. “I got this.”

The Adagio for Strings that played in the background gradually faded, giving everyone their cue to take their seats.

In the middle of the grass-carpeted shell-keep sat roughly two dozen chairs arranged in three rows. There was no centre aisle, the brides having chosen to make their entrances from opposite sides, and since they were staying at the keep and its surrounding grounds into the late afternoon, there was no need for them to take their exit past the guests.

Decorations were minimal, leaving the rustic stone and open sky to look down upon their gathering. The only addition they’d made to the courtyard, other than the chairs and a few speakers, was the floral arch next to which Artie waited.

Jeannie sat in the front row, an empty chair on her left side for Warren, and Eleanor on her right. “I hope Myka’s not too nervous. She can be such a little worrier,” she whispered to the older woman beside her.

Eleanor smiled as she pictured the young American. “She makes time to consider all possibilities. That is perhaps not such a desirable trait when faced with an emotionally charged situation such as this.”

“I wish she had let me in there with her,” Mrs Bering continued in the same distracted and slightly anxious tone. “Tracy should be able to calm her down though if it comes to that. We wouldn’t want her getting cold feet, not after everyone’s gone to all this trouble to get here.”

Mrs Wells schooled her features to control the frown that wanted to dominate her expression. It amazed her at times when she considered how similar Myka and Helena’s parents were and yet how well balanced both women had turned out to be. It was testament to how strong willed their characters were, but she had to admit too that Jeannie was at least trying for her daughter. She was certain that the same could never have been said about Genevieve.

“I think there’s little chance of that happening,” she offered in response. “I have never seen two people so much in love as Helena and Myka. If either of them is feeling anxious it will likely be because they chose to block their link to each other. The moment they are out here, together, any concerns will be a distant memory.”

Jeannie gazed into the distance for a beat as she thought about this. “They are good together,” she agreed, letting a smidgen of pride show through her expression. “Myka will be a wonderful wife.”

Eleanor bit her tongue and smiled as much as she could. “Yes. She is a remarkable woman. They make it so easy to be proud of them.”

In the row behind, Abigail and Leena shared a look and suppressed their amusement. Jason and Lila however immediately put their heads together to whisper frantically over what they’d heard. Kevin stayed wisely silent - the last thing he wanted to be heard discussing was the inner workings of his mother-in-law’s thought processes.

Three older regents and an ex-caretaker sat unassumingly at the back of the congregation, all calmly observing the families that had grown together around their newest regents. Their invites had come as something of a surprise following on from all the ill feeling shared just a few short months ago. Despite this, tensions were minimal and after a stiff greeting earlier in the day, nothing but good vibes filled the site.

A high, clear note filled the air and all adult chatter faded, leaving only the happy murmurs of children who continued to play in their purpose built den. Except for Fredrick and Christina, who stood by Steve and Pete, ready to play their parts.

From the speakers the Vocalise Opus 34 began to play and the castle held its breath.

Helena appeared first, her hair floating gently as she moved, the minimal style lending a sleek path down to painstakingly embroidered shoulders, the inky blackness in stark contrast with pale skin and the delicate tones of her outfit. She paused deliberately, her toothy smile letting no one doubt her conviction as she turned to her grandfather and took his arm.

Rupert stepped forward and kissed the bride’s cheek, whispering from the corner of his mouth as they began to walk together, leading a manically beaming caretaker behind them. “I believe I should be leading you,” he pointed out gently as he attempted to temper her pace.

“I need to see her,” she hissed back, though she did stop tugging.

“Patience, child. We’re almost there.” It was hardly a long walk, only taking another half a dozen steps before they reached the arch, but still Mr Wells could feel his granddaughter’s palpable impatience. He chuckled as he leant in for another kiss on the cheek and whispered, “You look radiant by the way, dear,” before taking his seat next to his wife.

Seeing his Mummy standing there, Fredrick forgot all about his instructions to stay with Christina and Uncle Pete. He ignored their hissed pleas for him to come back as he broke free of his sister’s hold and scuttled to the inventor’s side.

Far from being cross, she smiled down at him and then turned to her daughter to beckon her closer. No sooner were they together than the attention of the amused and charmed crowd drifted to another doorway and another emerging bride.

* * * * *

Due east, across a barrier of sea, agents came to a halt as lights flickered around them and static kicked at the dust in the air. After two years of hunting and storing artefacts, they thought they’d seen it all. Weird stuff was part of the job when you worked at Warehouse 14. But something told them that, this time, they were dealing with an entirely new state of affairs.

* * * * *

HG gasped, her breath catching and heart clenching in her chest as an angel appeared and made the world stop. Something inside of her pawed restlessly, begging her to cross the expanse of grass between them and to take the beauty into her arms, where she belonged. Yes, the dress was wonderful and the American looked incredible with her hair artistically arranged and trailing soft tendrils along her neck, but it was the pulsing light surrounding her that tugged at the inventor most.

“Mum, we need to stay here,” Christina urged as her mother inched ever so gradually forward.

Helena froze but remained anxious for her fiancée to close the distance between them. Later, she would deny the dreamy/goofy expression her friends accused her of or the comical way she shuffled slightly from foot to foot as her bride gravitated closer.

Myka’s bright eyes smiled as she thanked her father and held a hand out to slide it into her partner’s. She had to chuckle at the identical expressions of excitement on her family’s faces.

“Mama!” the toddler called, grabbing her attention so he could thrust a bouquet of daisies into her hand. “Fweddy go pay now,” he grinned and scampered off to the amusement of all in his wake.

Christina smiled shyly, aware that all eyes were on her as she offered a similar gift to HG. “Our blessings,” she explained simply and then turned crimson as both of her parents ducked down to kiss her on opposite cheeks.

Myka released a full belly-laugh which drew dark eyes immediately back to drinking her in. She met the inventor’s intense gaze and spent so long getting lost in chocolate depths that the clearing of a throat and another round of chuckles almost failed to register in her mind.

“I think we had better get started before one or both of you forgets that you have an audience,” Artie suggested as an aside, eliciting a blush from Myka this time.

The gentle warning didn’t prevent the continued staring, neither woman needing to concentrate much to recall everything they were meant to say at the time they were meant to say it. Part of each of them did seem to separate from their bodies, time merging in the space between and around them, as if joining in a dance reserved only for soul mates. For those in the audience who knew what to look for, they saw the dance as the threads of two lives knotting together to become one.

* * * * *

In the Warehouse, the puzzled agents were joined by their director of operations, a bespectacled woman with flyaway hair who looked like a stiff breeze would knock her over. When she spoke though, her tone was sharp and cut through any lingering chatter.

Reports were coming in thick and fast from all areas of the Warehouse: the liquid in the gooery had begun to bubble, the zen circle was spinning and picking up speed, and various artefacts had begun to omit sparks of life even in their dormant state.

They were on high alert.

* * * * *

Once Artie reached the end of his obligatory lines, he gave the brides their cue and took a small step backward, out of their immediate space. While he was honoured that they had chosen him to lead their special day, he found that being in their presence was very intense; the energy that flowed between them pulled at him. He could only think to attribute this phenomenon to the many years he had spent practically living in the Warehouse. Most of the other guests present showed no such difficulties.

Taking leave to begin her own speech, Helena raised the hands she could not let go of and pulled them to her chest, tight against the rhythm of her heart. “Myka,” she began in a tone that carried over the crowd yet remained tender. “You taught me to hope when all seemed lost, to have faith when I doubted, and to love when I was empty. You complete me in so many indefinable ways and today you bring yet another layer of joy to my life in taking my hand and becoming my wife.        

“No matter when or where in time and space, I pledge my love to you and no other.” As the last words left her lips, she half turned and broke eye contact just long enough to reach for the ring that Steve held out for her. “Let this ring be the symbol for the life we lead together; a path along which we will journey for eternity.”

Keeping Myka’s hand held close, Helena lined the ring up with the corresponding finger and slid it smoothly into place, all the while gazing into warm, glassy eyes and uttering a heart-felt ‘I love you’.

Myka’s smile lit her face. She wanted to lean in and take her lover’s lips with her own but knew that she had her own words to say first. “Helena, you challenged me to stand taller and stronger when I thought I’d lost my balance. You opened my eyes, not just to the love of others around me but to the best parts of me, and you never stop finding reasons for me to feel proud.

“I am most proud of us and the family we have built. No obstacle will ever come between us so long as we stand together. No matter where or when life takes us, I pledge to love you and you alone.”

Like the inventor, Myka broke from their lingering stare to turn to the man behind her, who held out another ring. “Let this ring be the symbol for the life we lead together, along which we will journey for eternity.” As her own had, Helena’s ring slipped perfectly into place, snug against its diamond-topped partner.

* * * * *

Elsewhere on the continent, the heightened energy in the Warehouse’s surroundings began to ripple outward. From its remote location, the encompassing landscape shivered, the ground vibrated and the air hummed. Animals sprang to attention and vegetation swayed without a breeze.

Puzzled and alarmed, the active agents searched frantically for a cause and a solution. The sensors were going haywire and they were having no luck in locating the caretaker to see if she had any answers. Thankfully, the upgrades installed in Warehouse 13 were robust and eventually threw out the name of a source...

England.

* * * * *

The words ‘you may now kiss the bride’ were barely out of Artie’s mouth before Myka’s fingers were in Helena’s hair and their lips embraced sweetly.

The moment Myka’s lips touched hers, Helena felt weightless, any unconscious concerns becoming non-existent as every fibre of her being melded in tune with the American’s.

Awestruck, the audience watched as a sudden flash of light caught the newly married couple’s rings and filled the grounds of the ancient castle. Had they never before been privy to the strange wonders of the world of artefacts, they might otherwise have explained away the strange event as a fluke of sunlight reflecting off the shiny surface of the metal. Experience had made them wise though and rather than dismissing what they’d seen, most of them turned to their neighbour to share their amazement with a look.

Far too soon, Myka forced herself to pull away, her eyes remaining closed for several seconds as she savoured the euphoria that buzzed through her veins. When they did open, she found her wife gazing at her with a mixture of ecstasy and disbelief. Lips met again and her fingers pulled tighter at the muscle of the inventor’s neck until an insistent cough forced them apart again. She chuckled before offering Artie an apologetic grin.

“Shall we?” Helena placed a hand in her wife’s and turned so that they faced their family and friends. She felt Myka press more heavily against her side as they took a step forward and the guests burst into spontaneous applause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mrs and Mrs, finally! It's been a long time leading up to this (years of my life); let me know what you thought!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On with the party!

Helena stood before the assembled guests, unable to prevent the grin that dominated her features. “Thank you,” she addressed them smoothly. “My wife and I need to finalise the legal formalities.” She glanced to her side and shared a gooey look with Myka before turning reluctantly back. “Please, feel free to explore the grounds and help yourselves to refreshments.”

“Take it easy with the champagne though,” Myka warned, her gaze directed unerringly at Claudia. “We have all afternoon.”

A chuckle followed them towards an off-set table as Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major began in the background and Christina started from her spot to share her thoughts on the ceremony. “Did you see that light?” she blurted almost as soon as they greeted her.

Both regents frowned and Myka tugged the girl towards her. “What light, Sweetheart?”

“There was a light, when you kissed,” she said as if it should have been obvious. “From the rings!” she added.

Myka looked to her newly acquired spouse with a questioning expression, as if to say ‘should we be worried about this?’ There _was_ something different about that kiss and even after only a few minutes, the bond she shared with her partner felt polished and new. Having begun to assume that it was just her over excited imagination, she now had to stop to analyse it again. She reached for Helena’s hand and drew them down to sit at the table. “We know that they were made for us as a couple,” she began to explain as her theory took shape in her mind. “They may have reacted on some level to us making our union binding.”

“Was it an ethereal light or as if something were combusting?” HG asked their daughter even as she nodded along with the brunette’s thoughts.

“It was...” Christina took a moment to recall how she’d felt at the moment her parents had sealed their vows. “Beautiful.”

Helena smiled. “I think you have your answer there then, my love.”

Tracy sidled up next to her niece and placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Haven’t you guys scribbled your lives away yet? I want to get this party started!”

Myka rolled her eyes and turned back to her daughter. “Our rings have protected us and guided us. If they’ve changed, it would only be to make us stronger.” She knew that she and Helena would be testing that theory, but she was at least confident that the artefacts were not harming them – she vividly recalled the difference.

“Ok,” the eleven-year-old accepted and then glanced at Jason who was discretely snapping pictures of them. “I’m going to see what Freddy’s doing,” she announced before turning on her tail.

HG’s hand fell on Myka’s and they shared a moment before returning to their task. The camera recorded a few more shots as they signed their names and made room for their witnesses to do the same. With the formalities out of the way, the couple moved into the crowd of guests to accept congratulations and well wishes. Despite the rather small number of people, it took longer than expected to get through hugs, tears (mostly from Jeannie) and the compliments regarding their arrangements.

“You would’ve looked so beautiful in a church, both of you, but this is lovely too,” Mrs Bering blurted and then quickly tried to cover up when she caught the frozen disappointment on her daughter’s face. “You are both beautiful anyway of course. The music was wonderful and though not traditional, the vows were very... you. Well suited.”

Deciding that letting Jeannie talk more would only result in the woman saying something that she really would regret, Myka smiled and pulled her mother into a hug. “It’s ok, Mom. I know what you mean, so thank you. I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered and held her tighter.

Warren’s congratulations were brief but less awkward and he made both newly-weds promise not to forget a dance with him before the day was over, and then he led his wife away to check on the children. Following this departure, Rupert and Eleanor gushed about the entire ceremony and neither commented about what had just transpired. A simple smile and the rise of a brow was enough to communicate their opinions to the younger couple.

Mrs Wells took both of their ring hands in hers and brought them together. “As I suspected,” she began while inspecting a faint shimmer that she was certain she could see. “They continue to evolve. How do they feel?”

Helena exchanged a look with her wife and they were silent for several seconds – not talking but obviously communicating on some level. “Renewed,” the inventor offered eventually.

“Yes. And more powerful too,” Myka added. “We would like to test that though.”

“Telepathy?” Rupert pushed, an amused twinkle behind his gaze.

Myka began to answer ‘no’ but then caught a teasing glimpse of something that could only have come from Helena. “Not entirely,” she answered vaguely.

“Well, I am sure that in time you will come to know all of their strengths and limitations. For now, my dears, you must relax and enjoy yourselves.” She pulled her granddaughter into a hug and then turned to the brunette. “Welcome to the family, Myka Wells-Bering,” she enthused and kissed her cheek before wandering away, her husband on her arm.

* * * * *

At some point, the newly-weds managed to get separated and ended up at opposite ends of the courtyard, sipping champagne and watching each other surreptitiously.

Helena stood by the castle’s entrance, tilting her glass just enough to glance over at her beautiful wife and take a moment to appreciate the way Myka’s dress fell over her figure. With Myka’s hair pulled away from her shoulders, her neck appeared longer than its usual generous length and HG wanted nothing more than to open a few of the buttons on the back of her wife’s dress so she could explore that length of skin with her lips.

When the beautiful brunette turned on occasion, she flashed the inventor a full view of her back and Helena twitched on the spot at the sight. Was this intensity due to their artefacts’ changed states or her overactive imagination, natural desire for her soul mate and the fact that opportunities to be naked with one another this week had been in short supply?

Whatever the reason, HG ached for her lover and as much as she was enjoying this time to celebrate with her family, and though she was concerned about leaving the children, she longed for the moment that they could say goodbye and spend the next two weeks by themselves.

Across the courtyard, Myka fiddled with the stem of her glass and tried to focus on what Leena and Steve were saying about marriage and relationships. Wanting... Needing to be closer to Helena, her attention led to the link in the back of her mind; the point at which she could feel the tug of her wife’s desires. She played with it, consciously turning it on and off and exploring the difference.

When there was a lull in the conversation and her companions waited as if for a response, she realised that had no idea what they were talking about. Helena’s thoughts were becoming increasingly licentious and each time she opened herself to their bond, she was hit with a wave of lust that was almost impossible to resist. In an effort to save face, she faced Steve and took a stab in the dark, “How are things with you and Jason?”

Agent Jinks frowned briefly and then half smiled. It was obvious that Myka was just trying to be polite by talking to them. More than once his questions had gone unanswered and he wasn’t convinced that she had listened to any of his answers to her enquiries. “We’re good. We’re looking at buying – a house or an apartment, we’re not sure yet.”

Something about her friend’s tone drew Myka’s attention and she forced herself to think about what he’d said. “Oh? In Ohio?”

Steve’s smile widened in response to her intuition. “Colorado actually. A little place called Golden. I guess you’ve heard of it?” he chuckled at the happy surprise that took over her expression.

“What about your mom?” she wondered with friendly concern.

“We’re always travelling so we don’t see her as much as you might think, but we plan on making regular visits, as well as having her over to stay with us.” Steve paused, thinking about how to word his reasons. “Jase and I need to be with the team,” he began to explain. “These off-the-record grabs have been interesting and all, but neither of us have really been content with just handing artefacts over to Claudia and then going back to ‘normal’ life. I love my mom, but I miss my ‘family’. Plus, I want to be there if you guys need me, you know?”

Myka couldn’t contain her appreciation and happiness at this news and launched herself at Agent Jinks to pull him into a hug. “I’ve really missed having us all together. Claudia can pop in and out when she likes buy you guys, Artie and Abigail, you’re all too far away.”

Leena smiled sadly for a moment and then glanced over at her grumpy former-boss. “You might want to have a word with Artie before you bemoan his loss. I hear that a certain doctor is looking to open her own small private-practice.”

The bride shook her head in an attempt to right her thoughts. “Why am I just finding out about this?” she wondered aloud. She felt a push at the back of her mind and glanced briefly at her wife to find a curious frown directed her way. Assuming that Helena could feel an echo of her shock, she smiled and tried to communicate her intention to talk about it later. Her attention returned to the conversation and she glanced between her friends. “Artie and Vanessa are moving to Colorado?” she asked, just to be sure that she was understanding Leena correctly.

“I believe their intention is to move within easy access of the team. Artie isn’t really suited to city life and Vanessa expressed a wish to slow down and enjoy semi-retirement. Don’t be surprised if they land on your door-step,” the ex way-station owner smiled.

“I’m quite keen on the city,” Steve commented on his own living situation, “but Jase prefers the suburbs. No matter what though, we won’t be far away,” he explained and reached out to squeeze the bride’s shoulder.

Myka smiled and pulled him into a hug. “What about you and Abigail?” she turned to Leena once she’d released Agent Jinks.

An empathic face became apologetic and Leena smiled sadly. “We’re needed mostly on the island for now. Claudia’s still recruiting; there are new people arriving every week. When it eventually settles down, we were thinking about an apartment share so that we would have somewhere permanent to stay when we’re back in the States.”

Regent Bering (as she insisted on being addressed professionally), seemed to consider these new developments carefully. She glanced round at her guests, her gaze skimming over her wife and Claudia in serious conversation with Mrs Fredrick, before finally settling on her children. “Is this about us?” she blurted as she thought about her wife and their family’s destiny.

“Yes, and no,” Steve answered without preamble. “We’re all involved in the future of this planet. Having an ear to the ground gives us all fair warning.” He shrugged as if to say that it was just logical to think that way but then he held her with an amused stare. “Besides, it’s not as if we could just leave you without backup. We’re family, Myka. We have to stick together.”

Leena smiled softly and shook her head at the bride’s dubious expression. “What he said,” she responded simply.

* * * * *

Back on the opposite side of the courtyard, HG frowned as if she was trying to work out a particularly taxing puzzle. “She is _actively_ blocking me,” she decided finally.

“Dude, if I know the look you were wearing just now, you totally deserve to be blocked,” Claudia chuckled. “Super-powers should be used for good, not for teasing your wife with sexy thoughts.”

HG pouted slightly but didn’t attempt to deny the accusation. “It isn’t _evil,”_ she defended herself before adding, “and please don’t call me that.”

Mrs Fredrick observed the easy banter and felt proud of the distance they’d all come. Though more interesting to her was the development of the artefacts and their properties. “I assume by your reaction that Myka was unable to do that before?”

Shooting her wife another longing gaze, Helena turned to the older woman and shook her head. “There were instances when we did block each other but it was never through conscious effort.”

“Your grandmother’s intuition was correct. I know you will want to experiment with this new bond, Helena. I would be very interested to hear what you learn, if you and Myka are willing to share that knowledge,” Irene suggested, her tone rather more submissive and pleading than usual.

“I totes would love to get all the deets too,” Claudia butting in not unexpectedly. “Minus the gross bits if your plan is to keep sexing up my surrogate sister,” she added with an exaggerated shudder.

The inventor smirked as she shook her head. “There’s no danger there, dear. _Those_ details are for Myka only. I will make notes on the rings’ behaviour and I will share with you what I think is necessary,” she answered Mrs Fredrick’s question with no small amount of satisfaction.

Irene controlled a smile and simply nodded to the Brit to let her know that the message was received loud and clear. She excused herself as Pete skipped over to monopolise her companions’ attentions with something about entrées, and found the only two people in attendance whose births predated her own.

 “Irene,” Rupert greeted with a friendly, open expression. He and his wife had just finished talking to their granddaughter’s new in-laws and appeared happy for a break from the tedium of Mrs Bering’s well-meaning but often ill-considered comments.

“Rupert, Eleanor,” she greeted. “They made it,” she noted as she glanced between the brides.

Mrs Wells inhaled deeply and sighed a breath that she might have been holding for a century. “Yes. It has been a long time coming but the wait was worth it to see them now. We should enjoy this period of peace while it lasts.”

Rupert squeezed his wife’s hand to pull her away from her darkening thoughts. “None of those concerns today,” he insisted gently. “Leave the future where it is, my dear. We cannot predict its ilk, so it does us little good to dwell when she should be celebrating.”

“Right you are, love,” Eleanor agreed and kissed her husband’s cheek. “There will be plenty of time for _that_.”

“I think it might be almost time for us to gather for food and speeches, don’t you?” Irene suggested.

Mr Wells nodded and smiled. “Discounting Mr Lattimer, whose gluttony is a permanent fixture, I believe you are correct.”

In the play area, the younger children were beginning to bicker and whinge, a sure sign that they were in need of either sustenance or sleep. Lila and Kevin were hovering close by, administering drinks, consolation and mediation where necessary while Christina flitted sporadically between the roles of playmate and caregiver. The eleven-year-old’s selection of Tchaikovsky, as featured in some of her favourite ballets and Disney movies, played softly in the background until the tone changed and a lively march took over.

“Ah,” Eleanor chuckled as most of the adults noted the signal and began to move. “Good timing,” she added and reached for her husband.

Chairs and tables had been erected and/or arranged during the period after the ceremony and now sat in a wide square, six seats to a side. For the most part, seating arrangements were first come, first serve since they were such a close-knit group and could converse easily with most others at the table. There was a general arrangement of couples but mostly, no one concerned themselves overly with who they were sat next to. Children were dispersed between willing adults and one person to every table took turns to approach the uncovered buffet until everyone was tucking into their meal.

Though cutlery was optional, Helena couldn’t quite bring herself to use her fingers, while beside her, Myka alternated between the two. Amid smoked salmon, cheeses, various greens and freshly baked breads, the inventor chewed and surveyed the gathering.

For a century and a half, her conscious mind had been aware of existence and for the majority of that time, she had experienced little but misery and borderline madness. How was it that she could look back on that time and feel it as a drop in an ocean of emotional events? It was simple really – Myka. Every day spent with her soul mate was worth a huge portion of her time in the bronze; the love she had for her family overshadowing the heartache following Christina’s death.

It was still very much a part of her, but no longer dominated every fibre of her being.

At the time of experiencing that pain, nothing could have consoled her, but with hindsight, she was able to leave it in the past where it belonged. Though it disturbed her to think of it, she had really begun to appreciate their elder Christina’s decision to remain in bronze to return to the future. A century of frozen existence would have been much more bearable with the knowledge of a living-breathing family waiting for her at the other end. What was ten years compared to that? She could only hope that memories like today would sustain her daughter through that trial.

Myka must have sensed her deep thoughts because, as her imagination began to lead her to deeper places, Helena felt a hand on her knee and glanced up to find soulful green staring back at her with gentle, understanding concern. Leaning closer, HG brought their lips together in a tender kiss, eyes closing and a hand moving to her wife’s jaw as she tried to communicate the depth of her joy. Even when their mouths parted, Helena held Myka’s face still for a long moment so she could study those features and memorise every hill, plain and valley.

Was it the events of the day catching up to her or the culmination of years of wounds salved by the presence of this beautiful person that brought the sting of tears? So rarely had she cried these last few years, and in half of those cases, tears were a result of relief or laughter. All because this woman - her wife - loved her.

“I love you, Myka,” she whispered for her partner’s ears only. “That word will never be enough to encompass all that I feel for you, but I will attempt to show you with my every breath that what we have is true and everlasting.”

The feedback of emotion that Myka felt through their bond was enough to render her speechless, so instead, she pulled Helena into another kiss, her lips leaving a promise of many pleasant things to come.

When it appeared as if most people had had their fill (and the youngest three children were released to return to their games), Claudia rose from her chair and cleared her throat. With their gathering being so intimate in number, it didn’t take more than an elbow nudge and a couple of whispered words to quieten everyone down.

Foregoing much preamble, the young redhead dived right into her speech. Despite recent practise, she still wasn’t comfortable performing to a crowd. Particularly without her guitar. “I’ll never forget the first time I saw these two together,” she began as she stared down at the notes in her hands. “I‘d never seen Myka bend so many rules, when Pete wasn’t around at least, and never seen her so clearly emotional.” Chuckles floated around the tables. She chanced a glance at the brides and grinned. “Being around these two was like suddenly becoming invisible. I don’t think Myka quite appreciates how close I was to telling them to get a room!” Another smattering of amusement punctuated this statement and Claudia began to forget her nerves. “Apart, HG and Myka are two of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. But together, they are a force to be reckoned with. Though I miss us all living together and the days when I had to cough before entering a room – usually the library – I’m totally stoked that you guys shacked up, multiplied and now finally tied the knot.” Grinning at the amusement and embarrassment her words invoked, Claudia grabbed her glass and raised it in the air. “To Mrs and Mrs Wells-Bering!”

The gentle clink of many glasses accompanied the redhead’s words and as she sat down, another figure immediately stood up.

“The library?” Tracy questioned, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “What is it with you two and the books?” she teased and grinned unrepentantly at the warning in her sister’s glare. “Myka, when we were in high school, I didn’t understand a single thing about you and I’m ashamed to say that I pictured you, Joel and a bunch of cats growing old together.” She paused for effect, smiling at the confusion on everyone’s faces but her sister’s. “I have never been so happy to be proved wrong. You found someone who gets all of your weirdness. She was made for you. Never let her go. And, Helena; I know you know this already, but you just married an incredible woman who loves you completely. Take care of her. And welcome to the family!”

Following more applause and a lingering but all-too-brief kiss between the newlyweds, Pete decided that it was his turn and stood with his glass of soda. “Mykes, I know there’s a part of you that gets all giddy at the thought that your life reads like a fairytale, so I have just one thing to say; ‘... and they lived happily ever after’.” He lifted his glass, appearing smug at his reference while everyone joined in with the toast.

Myka blushed but was grateful for the fact that her best friend had decided to keep his speech short. She still recalled the talk he’d given in her dressing room that morning and she had half feared that he would make the same rambling monologue in front of all their friends and family. Either that or she feared he would change his mind about the many embarrassing anecdotes he wanted to recall.

_After refusing to spend the night apart from each other, Myka and Helena left the hotel in a shared car and only separated once they’d checked that everything was on schedule and both needed to start getting ready for the ceremony._

_Myka was sat in a dressing gown, her hair and make-up mostly done, when she heard something of a commotion from outside and then Pete’s voice arguing with her mother._

_“You can’t go in!” Jeannie insisted. “She isn’t dressed yet and we have less than an hour to get her ready.”_

_“Mrs B, I’m her best man; I’m not gonna make her late.” Pete argued back. “And if I did, I know a thousand ways to create a distraction. Please?”_

_The regent could tell by the lengthy silence that followed that her mother was heavily debating the pros and cons. Taking pity on the woman, she called out to them and asked her to let her best-friend in._

_“Are you sure, sweetheart?” Mrs Bering fretted as she let the man past. “There are an awful lot of buttons to contend with on that dress.”_

_“We won’t be long,” the bride assured her mother and schooled her features into a pleasant smile until it was just her and Pete. “What did you do?” she hissed with concern, automatically fearing the worst from her chaotic friend. “Did you lose the ring?”_

_“What? No!” He paused to think, picturing where he’d hidden it after deciding that his pocket was too vulnerable. “It’s safe. I just wanted to have a quick girly chat: mano-a-mano.”_

_A quirked eyebrow served as the regent’s answer before she shrugged. “Ok then. A girly chat,” she repeated, a half smile emerging to encourage him to continue._

_“So I wrote an awesome best-man speech,” he began and watched her expression immediately falter. “Lots of juicy stuff about how you and HG started out and how you reformed the villain.” His friend began to pale beneath her make-up and Pete decided to take pity on her. “It was an awesome speech.”_

_“Was?” the bride asked hopefully._

_“Yeah, for you, but then I realised that making your wife sound like a B-movie bad-guy probably wouldn’t make you happy so I did a bit of editing.” He paused, reconsidering. “A lot of editing. Don’t be surprised if what I say out there is kinda short.”_

_“By the sounds of things, that would be a blessing,” she offered along with a renewed smile._

_Pete gave a sheepish chuckle. “Yeah. See, the thing is though, I really wanted to tell you how proud I am, of you and HG.” Glancing around, he spotted a vacant chair and pulled it towards him. “When we met, you were wound tighter than a cheerleader’s uniform, and even when we were tracking McPherson, you wanted everything to be by the book. You’ve always had great instincts but you always listened to your head first. I think when HG was on the run, it was the only time I really saw you working more with your heart._

_“From slapping cuffs on her, to bickering in the middle of the street in Russia, and then to making out on the couch at the B and B,” he waggled his eyebrows and she reached out to poke his arm. He had never personally witnessed this prior to Christina’s return, but he had a good imagination and he’d heard enough hints to connect the dots. “You let her push your buttons. I know you felt like you let us down after Egypt but the truth is, Mykes, I was never more proud of you for jumping in with both feet, consequences be damned. You’re good for each other and you’re soul mates sure, but you still had to make those decisions.”_

_As Myka sucked in a breath, Tracy’s voice broke through the door. “I spent ages on that face. Don’t you dare make her cry!”_

_Pete jumped and the bride chuckled as she stood to pull him into a hug. “Thanks, Pete. That means a lot.”_

_“Hey, you’re my hero. You and HG are two of the strongest people I know. Whatever the future throws at us, we’re gonna beat it, ok?” He squeezed her harder and kissed the side of her head before finally letting go. “Oops,” he said when he saw the moisture gathering in her eyes. “I’m gonna... run, before your sister kills me,” he whispered and then danced out of the door calling, “See you at the altar, Mykes!” and then making a mad dash as he heard the younger Bering sibling’s mild expletives._

His private speech was a moment that she would forever treasure and she planned on sharing his sentiments with her wife in private at some point over the next two weeks, when they weren’t either naked or exploring. Expecting that her father would be the next to stand before Helena’s elders wrapped up the well-wishes, Myka was slightly startled when her mother grew from her seat and coughed lightly.

“I know that this is usually when the father of the bride makes his thoughts known but since my laconic husband is satisfied that he’s said all he needs to say today, I thought I’d steal this opportunity.” Jeannie paused to reach for some liquid courage and a ripple of tense laughter floated around the tables. “As a parent, you want things for your children. Health, longevity, a good education, success, supportive friends, love and eventually perhaps, children of their own. Holding my daughters in my arms, I had very clear views for how these things should look, but in all of the years that I have watched them grow and thrive, I did not pay enough attention to the most important thing – happiness.” She smiled at her eldest, noting the tears in her eyes and then turned to throw her stare at her new daughter-in-law.

“Helena, it’s no secret that I would not have chosen you for my Myka. I would have put my own short-sighted vision before her happiness and I would have been wrong.” The silence was palpable now, even the toddlers having quietened, perhaps as an unconscious reaction to the adults. “Now I know, that I could ask for no one more suited to my baby girl. You love her. You support her. But more importantly, you make her happy, and I am finally convinced that no other person could do the same. I am proud to call you my daughter-in-law.” Feeling the approval of those gathered, Mrs Bering smiled and looked back to her eldest. “Myka, I know that I speak for your father too when I say that we’re incredibly proud of both our girls. We wish you and your wife a long and happy life together. And the more grandchildren, the merrier,” she added with a relieved chuckle before everyone broke into similar approval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, let me know what you liked/didn't like.


	8. Chapter 8

** Chapter Eight **

Myka didn’t seem to know what to do first as her mother regained her seat and the toast continued around the table. She felt Helena’s hand on her leg and reached down to grasp it with her own. With her need to feel reassurance of this moment, their bond was wide open, and she latched onto that as another anchor while her mind recovered from her mother’s speech.

Helena Wells-Bering focussed mostly of making sure that her wife was ok rather than beginning to process the roller coaster of emotions that she’d just experienced. Had she really believed that her mother-in-law would cause a scene at her wedding? This morning she would not have thought so, but when Jeannie Bering had started talking, and the tension from her wife had filtered through their connection, she had really considered the possibility that this woman had waited patiently all this time to strike when they were most vulnerable.

Her mother-in-law’s opinion might have been low on her own list of priorities, but she knew that Myka would have been devastated by any hint of disappointment from the woman who raised her. That Jeannie had made the effort to praise Myka’s choice in front of their friends and family was blessing enough, but to hear the approval extended to herself, Helena was surprised by the pleasant tingle of pride that rose in her throat.

Rupert was the last to stand and offer his congratulations and well-wishes on behalf of himself and his wife. He hinted at absent persons but didn’t linger on sombre thoughts. “I know that dear Charles would have told you of his relief at no longer competing with you for amorous attention but beneath any complaints, he’d have told you how proud and happy he was to see his sister braving convention for the sake of love.” He watched his granddaughter’s smile falter and paused a beat to allow her time to gather her emotions. “Your grandmother and I would like to offer the same sentiments. You have come so far from the precocious child who took every opportunity to test our patience; from the teen who insisted on being treated as an adult, minus the responsibilities for the often catastrophic consequences,” he chuckled and the inventor followed suit. “From the young adult who defied authority as a rule, and from the young mother who battled daily against the world, to make a future with which you could live.

“Helena, the hardest lesson I think you have learned is that you never have all of the answers. We are delighted beyond words to see you sharing that lesson with your life partner. There is no doubt in our minds that the two of you will go forward from this point and be all the stronger for the vows you have made here today.” He let his words sink in for a moment as he reigned in the threatening sting of tears behind his own eyes and set his gaze on the woman beside his granddaughter. “Myka, from the moment I first saw you, I realised that you possessed a spirit kindred to my granddaughter’s. You are the partner we always wanted for her. You have completed our family and we wish the two of you all the love and joy in the world. To Helena and Myka!”

Once the toasts were at an end, the applause had faded and the plates mostly emptied of food, the brides were shooed off to one side while a select few guests cleared the debris and moved the tables and chairs out of the way.

Persuading Myka to let their friends get on with their preparations, Helena pulled her wife aside and into a chaste kiss. “Are you alright, darling? That was... somewhat more taxing than I anticipated.”

Myka laughed softly and nodded. “In a good way though.” She felt her wife’s hands absentmindedly exploring the contours of her dress and closed her eyes with a sigh. Lips met her own again and for several minutes, she got lost in the feel of Helena’s mouth against hers. When she opened her eyes again, dark depths were studying her intently and she felt the hesitation across their bond. “It’s real, Helena. We’re here. We’re married.”

“How do you know?” HG wondered, part in jest and part with genuine curiosity. Surely this fairytale was too good to be true?

The brunette leant back to study her wife’s face more clearly. Over the years, they had both experienced moments of doubt and disbelief, the severity of which had varied. Was this another crisis of faith or the normal ‘I can’t believe I married my soul mate’ reaction after the big event? She couldn’t find any particular distress behind those eyes so she decided that it was the latter. “Our lives are too crazy and my imagination is not good enough for this to be a dream. Therefore, whatever is left, no matter how unlikely, must be the answer. We _are_ really here and we _are_ really married,” she insisted and punctuated her words with another quick kiss.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tracy’s voice called over the general chatter, interrupting the moment. “Now that we’ve all been fed, I think it’s time to move this party along. But before Pete can show off all his moves, our brides need to have their first dance.” On cue, the music faded from Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 21 into Dvořák’s Slavonic Dance No. 2, Op. 72. “Mrs and Mrs Wells-Bering, will you take your places please.”

Myka felt her cheeks flushing but this was actually one of the traditions that she had insisted on herself. She tugged Helena’s hand and led her back to where they’d just enjoyed their first meal as a married couple. Once they were in place, she turned and wrapped an arm around the inventor’s shoulders, before bringing their clasped hands between their bodies. The Brit’s remaining, free hand settled on the curve of a hip and they soon began to sway together to the music, both enjoying the fact that, for the rest of the song, they had leave to stare at each other as much as they liked without fear of interruption.

“Are you enjoying the soirée, Mrs Wells-Bering?” Helena asked as she deliberately thickened her accent, knowing what it did to her lover’s libido. “I do hope that the festivities were to your liking.”

Green eyes disappeared behind their lids for a moment as the brunette attempted to control the guttural sound that rose in her throat. She wasn’t really so affected that she could become little more than a puddle just at the sound of her wife’s airs and graces, was she? A low down flutter confirmed her fear and a needy sigh escaped her lips. “Helena, not here,” she bemoaned.

While their exploits in the bedroom had evolved through the years, Myka still struggled to be comfortable with spontaneous sexual expression. Even more so when other people were around. The few times that she had pushed the boat out beyond her comfort zone, she had planned the evening like a military operation and taken several days, if not weeks, before finally taking that plunge. The occasion in the bookshop and their recent rendezvous in the basement had been exceptions to the rule and she still cringed when she remembered the expression on her sister’s face both times.

HG smirked, twirled them to the flutter of a violin and leant closer to her partner’s ear. “And waste this opportune moment? No one can hear us.” Myka would continue to resist but she knew that the mere suggestion would be enough to push the other woman’s buttons. The inventor enjoyed the chase almost as much as the end result.

“They have eyes,” the brunette argued, very aware that they had an adoring audience.

“What, pray tell, might they be privy to?” Helena asked as she pretended not to notice the blush on her lover’s cheeks.

“You know full well,” Myka hissed, though without any real malice.

A chuckle tickled the American’s earlobe, revealing the raven-haired bride’s thorough amusement. “Blame it on the exertion of the dance. They need not know the wanton desires you retain, love.”

As the heat in her cheeks and certain other regions increased, Myka’s grip on the back of her wife’s neck tightened. “You’re walking a thin line. I might decide to _retain_ more than just my thoughts this evening.”

“You are enjoying this as much as I, darling.” Helena sighed into the shell of an ear and felt a responding tremor in the body she held. “I would wager my entire fortune that you are already debating the time it will take for my hands to work their way through these buttons.”

Myka fought the grin that tugged at her mouth. “Shut up.”

The muttered words brought another smirk to the Brit’s lips and she immediately took them as encouragement. “Though I am not entirely sure I will have the patience. Do you imagine Mr Faraday will be annoyed or delighted by the prospect of his masterpiece being torn, seam-to-seam, from its wearer?”

The brunette broke and allowed a chuckle to escape. “Something tells me that it wouldn’t be like your average Wall-Mart stress test. I wouldn’t want you to feel disappointed or distracted by the task.”

An elegant eyebrow rose in contemplation. “Buttons it is then,” the inventor replied. “It is just as well,” she continued airily, her fingers dancing between the adornments, mapping their shape and size. “Anticipation is the sweetest torture with you, darling.”

Their bodies moved as one around the dance area, drawing a path that neither bride took much care to map – they were lost in words and promises, fairly oblivious anyone outside of their little bubble.

Helena created the perfect picture of innocent devotion as she let her cheek rest against her bride’s and placed her hand in the middle of Myka’s back, a respectable distance from the brunette’s derriere. In reality it gave her the best opportunity to whisper lustful suggestions in her wife’s ear and offer teasing reminders of their particularly memorable encounters.

“I know you said ‘never again’ in the bookshop, darling, but _librarian_ is a role you’ve yet to play and it seems like such a natural character for you.” She dropped her tone to a lower octave and added, “Should I be the shy nerd or the reluctant student?”

Myka made the mistake of allowing her imagination to take hold of the suggestion and run with it. Helena was so naturally defiant that she rarely took on the role of the shy, retreating character, but then she was so good at being defiant that Myka was quite happy to type cast her lover into that position. The words, her choice, was almost out of her mouth before she remembered where they were and who was watching them.

“Are you done torturing _me_?” she wondered aloud. “Our audience is beginning to look twitchy and I would like to ask our daughter to dance.”

HG retreated enough to gaze into her wife’s eyes for a beat. “To be continued, Mrs Wells-Bering,” she promised before swooping in to let their lips meet in a soft, lingering caress.

The second that Myka made eye contact with Christina and held out her hand in invitation, the pre-teen darted across the short distance and joined her parents as they twirled around. Others took their places too: couples and singles all managing to find a place on the designated dance floor.

Pete managed to restrain himself for three entire songs to slow dance with his girlfriend before the music shifted and the beat brought out the party-animal. Claudia became his first victim and then, in the blink of an eye, he was surrounded by children, who hopped around his legs with abandon, mimicking his erratic movements.

Once the more modern, popular songs replaced the classical compositions that they were comfortable with, both sets of parents and grandparents excused themselves to sit comfortably and watch, followed swiftly by Adwin and Irene, leaving Jane to enjoy a moment to let loose with her son and granddaughter.

No one seemed to mind that the sun continued to illuminate their revelry as bodies moved to the music. Any embarrassment quickly fled upon seeing friends and family having fun and before long, the tendrils of a final, slow melody drew most couples back to the dance floor, while exhausted children nodded in the laps of the few adults who remained seated.

Myka and Helena found themselves being ushered to the exit shortly after the music faded and were met by two palominos pulling an open-top carriage. The crunch of gravel sounded from beneath hoof and wheel until the driver pulled the reins, urging the horses to a halt.

This was it – the last leg of their dream wedding. Rather than end their day with the stress of bidding farewell to their children, they planned to journey to their new, country hotel as a family and make their departure the following afternoon.

Christina was hot on their tail as they crossed over the castle threshold and made a beeline for the two magnificent animals. Warren followed with his youngest grandson resting heavily in his arms, though as soon as the boy spotted their ride, his eyes lit up and his thumb fell from his mouth so that he could point at the carriage and voice his opinion.

As Myka gazed back at the chaos they’d left behind, Jeannie approached her eldest child and shook her head at the expression of concern that marred those features. “Don’t you worry yourself about any of that!” she insisted as she turned her daughter back to her excited family. “Go on now; this is your time to enjoy. Leave everything else to us. We’ll have it cleaned up in no time and meet you at the hotel.”

The brunette sighed but decided to make an exception and dismissed the slight guilt she felt about not staying to help. “Fine,” she grumbled good-naturedly and pulled her mother into a hug. She held on a moment longer than she normally would and whispered a heartfelt ‘thank you’ into the woman’s ear before she turned back to the carriage.

Christina was already aboard and Fredrick was chomping at the bit to follow his sister. Helena stood by the step and held a hand out to aid her wife’s climb. Normally neither of them would need the assistance, but with dresses encumbering them, a hand up was appreciated.

“Your carriage awaits, my lady,” the inventor announced, her gaze wandering surreptitiously over Myka’s form as she offered the American into the cab. Rather than release the fingers cradled in her own, HG waited until the brunette was steady on her feet before pulling herself up. An indignant squeal from behind demanded her attention and she tuned to find her son glaring at all three occupants. “Don’t fret, little prince. We are not about to leave you behind.” She reached out and plucked him from Warren’s arms, much to the toddler’s joy.

When they were all seated and the guests gathered to wave them off, Helena signalled the driver. The initial tug of the carriage caught them off guard and forced them harder into their seats, eliciting more squeals and giggles of excitement all round.

Helena wrapped an arm around her son’s waist, preventing any exuberant mishaps from befalling the toddler as she turned to her wife. Myka was busy taking in the scenery with Christina and the delight in those green eyes lit her whole demeanour. HG sighed. The kind of sigh she might have ridiculed had it come from peers in her youth. A sigh that said ‘you are my everything’. The American must have heard the breathy expulsion because she turned to the inventor with an expression of surprised amusement.

“Did you just _swoon_?” Myka teased.

Helena smiled dreamily, not the least bit embarrassed by her behaviour. “You are worthy of a swoon or two.”

“Hmm,” the brunette hummed in response. A hand rose to cradle the Victorian’s cheek, a thumb brushing tantalisingly close to parted lips as she studied sharp features. “Flattery, Mrs Wells-Bering, is a good start.”

They had been kissing all day: between dances and speeches, at rehearsed moments, and whenever they had a moment together when they weren’t expected to submit to one social convention or another, but there was something about _this_ moment, when their lips met and brushed lightly against one another, that encompassed the entire day in one perfect gesture.

Myka’s free hand joined its partner to frame her beloved’s face, holding Helena fast so that she could explore the inventor’s taste at her leisure. She felt her wife’s fingers at her waist and whimpered into the kiss as digits migrated past her hip and settled on her thigh. The movement of the carriage reminded them both of a busy Victorian London street but the excited chatter of children was enough to keep eager hands from wandering too far.

“Mama, Mummy, look! Wabbit!” Freddy exclaimed and surged against his mother’s arm.

Despite her distraction, Helena’s grip remained firm. She managed to tear herself away from temptation long enough to indulge his awe at the wonders of wildlife. “I see, love. And what’s that over there?” she asked as her arm reached out to a reddish, brown blur against a hedge. “I think Mr Fox would like Rabbit for dinner,” she added and then made a play of nibbling on the boy’s neck.

“No!” Fredrick cried, his eyes searching again for little Cotton-Tail along the grass.

Their transport progressed too quickly for them to stay and watch the age-old game of wiles between prey and predator, but the idea of the fluffy bunny ending up as dinner for the crafty fox seemed to stick in the toddler’s mind as the creatures fell out of sight.

Helena held her son close. Nature could be cruel but survival was the way of the world in many corners. She had never shied away from this truth but there was no need to paint a more distressing picture than necessary. “Foxes need to have dinner too, my dear, and they cannot eat grass. Rabbits however are fast and have many ways to escape. Those long ears might catch the sound of a fox approaching and _whoosh_!” Fingers hopped along the boy’s shin before disappearing up the hold of his trouser leg to tickle his knee, breaking the scowl he wore. “Rabbit is safe in his burrow.”

“He hiding?” Freddy probed as he glanced up at his mother’s face.

HG nodded. “Until it’s safe and then he’ll venture out again to nibble some more grass.”

“Fweddy want wabbit,” the boy announced, having given the matter as much careful consideration as his age would allow. That is to say, none beyond a knowledge of liking and therefore wanting.

Myka chuckled at her wife’s hesitation. “How about a trip to the petting zoo when we get home instead?”

“That sounds like a grand idea,” Helena replied with relief. With replies of approval all round, she knew that the topic would rest, for now. Emily Lake might have enjoyed the company of a familiar, but Helena Wells-Bering was not a woman who relished the idea. “My hero,” she whispered into Myka’s ear, resuming their flirting.

All too soon, the carriage arrived at their new, temporary lodgings. Located on the outskirts of the capital, the hotel boasted a long, gravelled driveway up to a large but simple building with all the charm of a country cottage. Myka immediately envisioned Longbourn House and one of her favourite literary heroines living there, prompting a smile as she thought of Helena as her very own Darcy.

“Mama, can we go riding when you return from your honeymoon? We’ll have time before we have to go home, won’t we?” the eleven-year-old asked as the carriage came to a stop.

“I’d like that,” Myka answered before Helena had time to comment. When her feet touched the ground and she caught sight of her wife’s hesitant expression though, she paused. “Really, Helena? Not even horses?” She waited until the Brit was close enough before leaning into her ear. “Is there only one kind of animal you like?”

Mahogany eyes darkened considerably as the raven-haired bride pictured her wife on the rare occasion that she allowed her wild side to take over. The memory alone was intoxicating. During the short period where there were no other adults in earshot, she took the opportunity for a more risqué response. “An animal that I might actually enjoy riding?”

Myka’s cheeks pinked and after a swift glance around a sly smirk took control of her features. “Perhaps, if you play your cards right.”

With places to be and children to keep occupied, the couple were forced once again to turn the heat down on their flirtations, leaving them in limbo between not wanting to hurry everything along and lose appreciation for the finer things, but already wishing that they were naked between the sheets.

Within moments of them arriving, the hotel manager appeared in the doorway as a car with a few of their guests pulled in behind them. Tracy got out of the car with Daniel, Lila and Sophie and together, they corralled the children inside.

“Myka,” Mrs Littlewood beckoned as they approached the small community room where they planned to spend the remainder of the afternoon and evening. She pulled her sister to one side, noting with a smile how Helena automatically fell into step beside her wife. “Here,” she hissed as she shoved a key into her sister’s hand. “You have half an hour before everyone else arrives. Go, take a minute to yourselves. Make the most of it,” she finished and winked before dashing off.

Myka stared at the key for a moment before a polite cough broke through her deliberation. She turned to find the manager hovering unobtrusively and by the expectant look on his face, she quickly realised that he’d overheard Tracy’s tactless suggestion. “Erm...”

Taking pity on her wife, Helena placed a palm against the small of Myka’s back and turned to the man. “My wife and I would like to freshen up before our other guests arrive. Would you be so kind as to show us to our room?”

“Of course madam. Right this way,” he answered without any indication that he imagined they might want to do more than simply check that they still appeared presentable.

The first thing they noticed about their room was the light flowing in through the double doors onto the balcony. Beams of sunlight reached in and lit a path to the main feature of the bridal suite – the prominent four-poster bed.

“... fresh towels are in the closet if you require extras and the mini-bar is complementary tonight if you wish to partake. If you require breakfast in your room or need a later breakfast tomorrow, just let us know and we will make the arrangements. Is there anything else that I can help you with?”

“No, thank you, Sean,” Helena responded politely, leaving Myka to wonder how her wife knew his name.

He didn’t wear a name-tag. Had someone mentioned it and she’d not noticed? Her concentration wasn’t what she was used to and she suspected that much of the reason lay with the way her eyes felt constantly drawn to her wife and how her skin shivered with the need to be touched by the Brit. It was very distracting.

“Do not hesitate to let us know if there is anything we can do for you. Congratulations to you both and I hope that you have a pleasant stay with us.”

The manager left without pause and he was gone before Myka could react and offer him a tip. Somehow though, she sensed that he wouldn’t have accepted the courtesy. He seemed a little too quietly proud and might actually take offence. She made a mental note to tell Claudia to add a little something extra to their final bill.

“How did you know his name?” the brunette asked as Helena stepped closer and wrapped both arms around her middle. Myka gasped and closed her eyes.

HG’s brows drew together in an expression of bemused amusement. “Darling, he introduced himself the moment we arrived at the door.”

“Oh.” _That explains it,_ she thought, recalling the detailed daydream she’d slipped into immediately following her lover’s comment about _riding_ and _animals._ “I must have missed it.”

“Love, are you alright?” Helena wondered, her thumbs beginning a soothing motion against her partner’s lace-covered skin.

“What?” Myka asked, the small gesture having the opposite effect of _soothing_ and making her heart race. “Yes, of course. I’m just a bit overwhelmed and _that_...” she grabbed hold of the inventor’s hands, stopping their movement, “is making it very difficult for me to think coherent thoughts.” Though she held Helena’s hands still, preventing more touching, her body leant into the Brit’s as if there was a magnetic charge between them and their bones were made of iron.

Relieved that nothing was wrong, Helena chuckled and whispered in the brunette’s ear, “Soon, darling.” She felt her wife shiver and pulled away. “Fifteen minutes does not afford us adequate time to indulge our carnal desires,” she teased, “but I think we could benefit from a breath of fresh air,” she suggested and began leading them towards the balcony.

Outside, the late afternoon air had cooled with the arrival of a herd of large, fluffy clouds and a light breeze that played with skirt hems as the women stepped onto the balcony. Myka instantly felt her sense-of-self return and sucked in a deep breath to calm the frantic rhythm of her heart.

Helena smiled as she felt the tension in the brunette’s body dissipate. It was gratifying to feel desired but the last thing she wanted was for Myka to experience any kind of unnecessary stress on their wedding day. She pushed buttons when she flirted but she was careful not to take it too far. Especially not today. With this in mind, she wrapped her arms around her partner’s middle and hugged her firmly from behind, her head dropping onto a shoulder so they were staring out at the same point on the horizon.

“Is this better?” she asked.

“Mm-hm,” Myka replied as she allowed her body to melt back into the strong hold. “This is perfect. I’m not sure if it’s the excitement of the day, the change in our connection or just how incredibly alluring you are in that dress, but my brain is frazzled,” she sighed.

“A combination of all three I’d imagine. You too are quite a sight, love. I would be content to remain in this particular spot with you all evening, regardless of who might come knocking, if I thought I could convince you to do the same.” Helena’s eyes closed and she took the time to simply enjoy the peaceful moment.

Not too far away, on the opposite side of the building, they could hear car doors opening and closing, followed by voices that increased in volume until they were muffled by walls and doors, when finally, the intrusive sounds faded and they realised that their short reprieve was over. Still, neither bride moved. Bird song soon dominated the surrounding area, even blocking out the distant hum of motorway traffic. The tranquillity seeped into their pores and drained any loitering nerves from earlier in the day.

Another deep sigh fell from the brunette’s lips and she turned smoothly in her wife’s embrace so that she was staring into love-filled eyes. “We should head back downstairs,” she said softly as her forehead fell against the Brit’s.

“Yes, we _should,_ ” Helena responded, quite clearly serious about wanting to stay put.

Myka smiled against a cheek. With the sun playing peek-a-boo against her back and a faint scent of lavender on the breeze, it was the perfect moment to pause and appreciate what they’d achieved together. “My wife,” she whispered across pale skin.

“Yours, Myka,” HG agreed readily. “Forever.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, I just love these two!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping this chapter is up to scratch because I haven't had time to do a final polish. Not sure if people are still reading this but here you go anyway.

No one commented or made a fuss when they arrived much later than expected. The atmosphere in the lounge was very relaxed, with most guests sinking into large, worn-leather chairs and sharing tales of youthful misdeeds with ease, taking the opportunity to grow closer as a group.

A supper of cheese, crackers and hot chocolate kept them happy until nightfall, at which point, parents began to carry their conked out children to bed.

“Mykes,” Pete began as he approached the couple in order to say goodnight. “We pulled it off – the perfect wedding.”

“For you two at least,” Lila added as she clung lethargically to her boyfriend’s arm. Sophie snored lightly in her daddy’s arms and the blonde couldn’t resist reaching out to adjust her daughter’s collar so that it wasn’t pulling against her neck. The toddler gave a grunt and frowned in protest. “This one would have bouncy castles and pizza if given half a chance,” she joked and jerked her thumb in Pete’s direction. She smiled up at his goofy face and leant in to plant a kiss against his cheek before turning back to the newlyweds. “It has been a wonderful day. Magical – literally.”

“Thank you. We’ve loved every minute of it,” Myka gushed. “It’s good to know that it wasn’t just us.”

“What time have you decided to leave tomorrow?” Lila wondered aloud.

“Not too early I hope,” Pete butted in. “We’ve got to see you off in style.”

Claudia had been hovering close by and approached the two couples with a distinct wobble to her gait. “What are you planning to do? Cover their car with Marigolds?” Not waiting for an answer, she pulled Myka into a spontaneous hug, her head resting against a shoulder as she gazed across at HG with unfocussed eyes. “I love you guys.”

Myka hugged the young woman closer as her eyes searched the room for Steve. She spotted him and Jason flicking through buttons on the camera and managed to catch his eye long enough to flick her head and summon him closer. “We love you too, Claude. Did you manage to drink much water between the glasses of champagne?”

“Water-schmarter,” the techie grumbled, her eyes drifting shut, oblivious to the expressions of amusement, pity and concern that surrounded her.

After the eventful day, most of those present were more than ready to retreat to their own rooms and, one by one, the room emptied, leaving just Tracy who was trying to escape from beneath the combined weight of her niece and nephew.

“A little help?”Mrs Littlewood called as quietly as she could.

Helena chuckled as she noticed her sister-in-law’s predicament and led her wife over. Christina had insisted on staying awake for as long as possible and had been doing well up until about half an hour ago. Now, her head craned onto her Aunt-Tracy’s shoulder, her mouth open and drool seeping from the corner. “It is gratifying to see that my mother’s lessons in etiquette had such little impact on our daughter,” the inventor noted sarcastically.

“Forgive me for saying ‘thank God for that’!” Myka mumbled in an aside. “I love our open and friendly princess just the way she is.” She leant down to the girl in question, ran loving fingers through her hair and kissed her forehead before whispering, “Christina, sweetheart? You need to wake up; it’s time to go to bed.”

The girl grumbled, turned her head further into the depths of her aunt’s warmth and said, “That makes no sense, Mama.”

“The party’s over, love. You can’t stay here and sleep on Aunt Tracy all night,” Helena explained patiently. “There is a wonderfully comfortable bed waiting for you just upstairs, but first you will have to move from the couch.”

Another grumble, but this time the figure rolled the opposite way and allowed her Mum to help her to her feet. “Will you tuck me in?” she asked quietly, suddenly sounding much younger.

“That’s what we’re waiting for,” Helena answered as she pulled her daughter closer against her side.

Myka helped her sister with Fredrick and between them they managed to carry/guide the children to Tracy and Kevin’s suite. The couple’s son was already fast asleep in a carry-cot by the time the rest of the family piled in. Christina frowned at the lack of beds until she was led into an adjoining room that was all set up for her and her brother.

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” the girl asked once she was in bed and her parents were perched either side of her. “Will I be able to wave you both off?”

Now that the excitement of the wedding was out of the way, she began to look to the next two weeks without her parents. Since arriving in the twenty-first century, she had rarely spent more than a night or two away from her mothers and knew that she was going to miss them terribly.

“Of course, sweetheart. We wouldn’t be able to leave without saying goodbye,” Myka reassured the eleven-year-old.

“Kent isn’t very far,” Helena began to explain. “We thought we would stay to have lunch with everyone so we could say farewell to those who are returning home.”

“Will you call us when you get there?” Christina wondered aloud, even though she’d asked this question more than once already.

Both adults smiled at the query. It was very easy to forget sometimes how young Christina still was when she behaved so maturely most of the time.

“Yes, love,” Helena replied. “You don’t suppose that either of us could go a day without talking to you or Fredrick, do you?” she teased.

“Aunt Tracy or Uncle Kevin will read to you both at bed time though, if you don’t feel like reading to yourself. I’m sure Trace said something about a girly movie night too.” Myka tucked the sheets closer around her daughter and kissed her forehead again. “Time for sleep now. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Mama.” She turned her head towards the inventor to meet the kiss that she anticipated and then wrapped an arm under her pillow. “Night, Mum.”

* * * * *

A strange sensation passed over the newlyweds as they entered their room a short while later. There had been some joking about thresholds and who would carry whom over the one to their bridal suite, but in the end they simply held hands as they stepped into their room and stood awkwardly in the entryway. For all of their back and forth teasing and despite the years they’d been intimate, something about their wedding night removed them both to a time of innocence.

Renewed. That was the word Helena had used to explain the change with their rings. Could it be that today, the day they made their vows to each other, renewed more than just their artefact-induced connection?

Perhaps it was not so strange to feel suddenly shy and unsure.

Myka took a few steps towards the balcony while Helena watched on, closing the door softly behind them. The sun had set, leaving the moon in its place to illuminate the brunette’s figure, though from where the inventor stood, most of what she could see was a very attractive silhouette. She watched her wife’s head move just enough so that she knew she was being watched. Not knowing whether Myka was smiling or not, she decided that she had no choice but to move closer. Her throat tingled and her fingers twitched; she longed to touch her wife and feel her respond but an acute feeling of reverence gave her pause - like knowing she could pluck a star from the sky but not wanting to spoil it.

Helena’s steps carried her within a hair’s breadth of Myka’s back and she felt the echo of anticipation that trembled through the brunette’s body. Her gaze drank in the lace-encased skin on display and, with the tips of her fingers, she began to explore. She could feel her need growing hot inside her body and her imagination began to work overtime as she considered the many delicious ways she knew she could make her wife come apart. Even though she knew this, her hands shook. She was nervous, as if this was her first time.

The instant her wife’s hands touched her body, Myka gasped - millions of tiny nerve endings jumping to life in response. Her eyes closed of their own volition and she pushed back into the touch. “Helena,” she said - her voice barely above a whisper.

The next few minutes were a blur: an eager hand reached back to find raven hair, and rouged lips traced the length of a neck. Helena’s fingers gripped the dip of a waist and her hips moulded to the curve of her wife’s behind, making more than just her own knees fall weak. Helena nuzzled the sensitive spot behind Myka’s ear and breathed in the intoxicating scent of the brunette’s favourite perfume mixed with her natural bouquet. When her partner pulled away slightly and turned in her arms, she didn’t miss a beat - hands rose to cradle the base of a skull and she swallowed the moan that fell from her wife’s lips.

It was a frenzy of kisses and caresses that each melded into the next, distorting time in a way that only the deepest passion could. Lungs burned for air before either bride could pull themselves away and when they eventually did, the sound of their shared pants filled the room.

“I thought... you were going to do something... about these buttons,” Myka rasped against the hinge of a jaw.

HG’s mouth fell upon Myka’s once more, her tongue moving with exploratory strokes as if savouring a taste she could never get enough of. When her wife responded in kind, a sound of appreciation vibrated in her throat and she felt the brunette grin. In an effort to distract her lover from her tentative control, she reached for the nape of a neck and teased the first pearl from its embrace. “One.”

“Oh God,” Myka whispered, her head sinking against a shoulder as her fingers closed around satin. By the time Helena had counted to seven, Myka was shaking with need. Knowing that her wife had to release all nine of the others before she could step out of her dress, the American pulled them towards the bed and sank heavily onto the mattress. “Keep going,” she urged.

Helena’s hands lost some of their patience as she complied and flicked rapidly through eight to twelve. She slowed again through the final four until the last popped free. A small zip released the brunette’s hips from the fabric and with a few frustrated tugs, the dress slithered into a puddle on the floor.

Not wanting to sit idle while Helena was still fully dressed, Myka reached for the waist-coated front and made quick work of the buttons. A frown settled on her brow as the material didn’t immediately fall open. With the inventor’s lips on her neck, she couldn’t see enough to figure out what the problem was. “What’s the trick to this?” she asked as her hands roamed her lover’s chest, searching for a gap.

HG pulled away long enough to grab both lapels and push them towards each other. As she let them, go they sprang apart, revealing scant lace and a valley that dipped into a much deeper cavern than usual. She looked up to find her wife’s gaze fixated on that particular spot and smirked. “It is rather astonishing what a skilled tailor can achieve with the right application of fabric. Is it not, darling?”

Feeling a spark of her normal assuredness return with the sound of her lover’s teasing, Myka twinkled mischievously. Keeping green eyes locked on brown for as long as possible, she inclined her head, letting her tongue lathe a path from the dark depths up to the throbbing pulse thrumming against the inventors neck. When Helena shivered and grabbed the back of her head, she hummed against pale skin, pushed the Brit back onto the bed and twisted into her lap. Settling onto her haunches, arms either side of the inventor’s head, she smiled down at her wife, making prolonged eye-contact for the first time since entering their room.

“Well,” Myka began with a grin designed to mask the hesitation that flooded back into her consciousness. “Now that I have you, Mrs Wells-Bering, what shall I do with you?”

How was it possible to feel so comfortable in her own skin; feel confident in her relationship; know exactly where she would touch her wife to get the desired reaction, while simultaneously feeling like this was an entirely new experience; like she was barely out of her teens and lying with a lover for the first time?

What had her first time been like? She remembered the guy – tallish, a little chubby, with kind eyes that had convinced a tipsy, younger Myka that he would do as well as anyone – at the time the insecure college student in her being more concerned with her sister’s teasing than what she might really feel for the boy. With vivid clarity, like most things in her life, she remembered his cheap aftershave and the hours they’d spent studying together, but the nights they’d spent together in her narrow dorm-room bed? Gone.

What about Sam? Next to her wife, he’d had a rather large impact on her life, romantically. She had enjoyed him on many occasions, this she knew, but as she searched her memory for an example, she came up short.

Though her contemplation took little more than a few seconds, her confusion must have showed in her expression, causing concern to fill dark eyes and temporarily replace the lust Helena had worn.

“Myka?” the inventor prompted as a hand rose to ouch the brunette’s face. Regretting her distraction, Myka allowed her features to relax and smiled as she shook her head. “Not important,” she insisted. “Remind me in the morning,” she added, hoping that by promising not to avoid the discussion, she would put the inventor’s mind at ease. A fire burned in her belly, insistent embers smouldering despite her brief pause. Looking down at Helena, seeing her wife’s body displayed so tantalisingly beneath her, nothing was more important than those hands touching her and feeling her lover’s pleasure echoed against her own. “Where were we?”

HG took a moment to double check that her wife really was ok and when she met with the heat of Myka’s arousal, she quickly forgot the interruption. “I was enjoying the view. It’s been too long since I have been afforded an opportunity to just... look at you.”

Myka smiled, rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to blush. “You’re _always_ looking at me,” she argued.

“Not like _this,_ ” Helena muttered as her eyes travelled leisurely over the body above her.

The brunette sat up straighter, relaxed, deliberately offering her lover more visible skin. “It’s not so different to me,” she noted casually letting the tips of her fingers draw random lines over pale skin.

“Oh? How so?” the inventor wondered distractedly.

Myka continued her exploration, dropping her heated palms over ribs that rose and fell with the Brit’s breath. She stroked down the flat of a stomach, noting faint lines that she had spent hours tracing while thinking of their baby growing in there.  She let her thumbs follow the contours of the pelvic bone to dip beneath the elastic of her wife’s underwear. She heard Helena’s breathing hitch and bit her lip. Dragging her gaze away from hidden treasures, she made eye contact with the other woman and confessed, “Your eyes have always had a way of making me feel naked.”

Helena said nothing, choosing to reach behind Myka’s head to guide her down into a heated kiss instead. She felt her lover’s hands pushing beneath her back to reach the fastening for her bra and eased the way by rising up slightly onto her shoulders. Almost without breaking the pressure between their lips, the American removed it entirely and tossed it carelessly to one side. When teasing fingers began at her ribcage again, HG gave a grunt of impatience and reached for the hand to pull it to her breast, turning the sound into a moan. Not one to be outdone, she returned the favour, relishing the groan that vibrated in her mouth as pebbles slid against her palms. “Myka,” she breathed against the shell of an ear as her wife turned her head in search of oxygen.

Patience was normally something that Myka excelled at but at present, she found the wait just short of torture. Her hips were already rocking against Helena’s, her legs straddling one of the Brit’s so that every grind brought them both closer to the edge but still tantalisingly out of reach. She was torn between the need to keep in motion, to keep feeling the delicious friction between their bodies, and needing to de-robe to remove the last remaining barrier between them. _Easier without panties,_ she thought as she imagined her wife’s fingers bringing her over the edge.

HG missed the weight of her lover instantly but quickly realised the reason for her absence and lifted her hips to help. Myka’s mouth was hot on hers as they reconnected and she felt her wife’s desperation consume her. Flipping them over, she pushed a knee aside and slid questing digits through wet curls. She swallowed the plea that came from her lover’s mouth and began stroking slick walls in a steady rhythm.

With Helena inside her, driving her mad with desire, Myka lost the ability to reciprocate and grabbed onto anything that might give her an anchor. She could feel her wife’s eyes boring into her skin where they fell and knew subconsciously that she must look a sight, murmurs and expletives toppling from her tongue without censure and sweat gathering in a sheen over her body. At any other time, she would be embarrassed to acknowledge her unbridled pleasure, but there was something incredibly freeing about letting her lover witness her without walls, and the burning lust behind dark eyes just served to drive her to loftier heights.

Myka came with Helena’s mouth on her breast, a tongue swiping flat over a nipple before the tip flicked at the hardened nub, pushing her firmly over the edge. She was vaguely aware of the motions against her hip and the echoing moans from her lover before they lay spent, panting and vulnerable to the cooling air.

Helena recovered first, her eyelids fluttering open to fix on her wife. At first, she attributed the faint glow that tinted Myka’s skin to her imagination, supposing that her euphoric state had made her mind susceptible to overly romantic ideas but the longer she started, the more detail she began to pick out. The same lively green reached out to her from the connection between their rings.

Needing to test this phenomenon, she lifted a hand to Myka’s hip and began to draw swirling patterns over her skin. When her touch tickled, the brunette’s body shook with laughter and the colours jumped in ripples, but when her hand ghosted over the curve of a breast and her thumb circled a sensitive nipple, it twisted into spirals again, throwing rivulets of emerald into the air which seemed to turn immediately in her direction.

A serene smile lit Myka’s face and she blinked as she gazed up at the Brit. Catching the concentration and curiosity on her lover’s face, she asked, “What are you up to?” Then she saw the golden mist that encompassed Helena’s body. “You’re glowing,” she gasped in wonder.

An amused smirk crawled into Helena’s expression. “As are you, love,” she replied.

Looking down at her own skin, the brunette didn’t initially see much but on closer inspection, the parts of her body closest to Helena’s did indeed glow, as if reaching out towards the Brit. “That’s new.” She held her left hand out towards Helena’s chest, watched the tips of her fingers pulsing against the warm skin and swirls of excited energy running from the focal point of her ring. “What does this mean?” she asked after a long moment of thought.

“Your guess is as good as mine, darling.”

HG took hold of Myka’s hand and brought it to her body, slowly, deliberately moving it lower, and letting her mind venture to the sound she expected from her lover the second she reached her destination. Speculation wouldn’t get them very far and that was all theories were unless they were tested. Being a scientist and loving the process of discovery, she was naturally keen to experiment. Add into the equation her very naked and very eager wife? She was in heaven.

Senses still on overload from her body’s recent implosion, Myka sucked in a sharp breath and bit her lower lip as she felt her hand being guided between heated folds.  A sound somewhere between a growl and a whimper escaped her throat and her eyes followed the same path to watch as her fingers disappeared from view. Mouth dry, she swallowed hard and turned her gaze to lock onto her wife’s. “Helena,” she began breathlessly, “you’re so beautiful.” Pale skin flushed above her and mahogany eyes darkened impossibly. The golden glow surrounding the inventor appeared to have a life of its own as it pulsed along with their movements, becoming brighter and almost tangible after each passing minute.”

Myka watched carefully for the right moment to alter the speed, direction or pressure of her thrusts, listening for the telltale sounds of a hitch in Helena’s breathing, a whimper within a moan or a pause in the rhythm of her hips.

 _So beautiful,_ she thought as she stared up at the goddess above her.

A growing ache in her wrist threatened to end their lovemaking prematurely and she knew that she had to do something before that happened. Helena was close but Myka found that she didn’t want this to end yet; she wanted to prolong this night as much as possible. The rhythm of her fingers slowed until they slipped out entirely and her wife stared down at her with an expression that screamed confusion and indignation.

“Darling,” HG begged shamelessly.

Myka smiled and rose to kiss her lover hotly before guiding her back and reversing their positions. “Patience,” she cautioned.

Settling between Helena’s legs, she admired the heat of anticipation and need behind the Brit’s eyes before sinking fingers into a head of raven hair and kissing her senselessly. Trembling legs curled around either side of her body and pulled her closer, hips rocking up against her own, searching for friction.

“Myka, please!” Helena tried again between one panting breath and the next. The maddening feel of desire coiling so tightly within her threatened to summon a sob from the back of her throat. At the point where she was seriously considering taking matters into her own hands, Myka’s left hand released its grip on her head and began a meandering path down the length of her body. She groaned and pushed up, hoping to speed its journey to where she needed it most.

At her wife’s touch, HG rolled her shoulders into the mattress, her back arching. Not knowing what to do with her hands but needing something to hold onto, she reached above her head and sank her fingers into the flesh of her pillow. She felt heat and wetness against her breast and moaned as another of her wife’s fingers stretched past her entrance. She wanted to look, to see the expression of controlled lust on Myka’s face but each time she tried, something incredible pulsed through her body, drawing her eyes closed against the overload of pleasure.

Although they could both be very vocal in the bedroom, they had quickly learned to tap into the bond that linked them as soul mates. When Helena trembled on the edge of release, she didn’t require words to tell Myka what she needed: the weight against her upper body disappeared, the figure trapped between her legs escaping, sliding down until lips and tongue closed around a throbbing bundle of nerves, while fingers reached deeper.

The world exploded behind her eyes, her breath catching on the sob of relief that finally escaped as heels dug into the mattress and toes curled. It was like her consciousness had decided to merge with Myka’s and for a beautiful moment they became one being: thoughts, memories and dreams.

Almost as soon as it began though, the sensation faded, leaving her a panting, trembling mass of spent muscles and nerves. A vague impression of some powerful desire lingered from their brief meld and she clung to it. A wish; a child. And then, that too dissipated.

“I love you,” Myka whispered as she joined Helena again at the head of the bed.

The words wormed their way into the inventor’s mind, drawing a satisfied grin to her features. Dark eyes fluttered open to drink in the adoring expression on her wife’s face and Helena released her abused pillow to run tender fingers over flushed cheeks. “I love you too, Mrs Wells-Bering.”

* * * * *

By the time they ran out of energy, it was almost two in the morning and they lay cuddled in a mass of limbs and linen, talking nonsense mostly and enjoying their post-coital bliss. Shortly after midnight they had opened the balcony doors to let in the light breeze that slid over neatly manicured grass and hedges. It teased strands of wild hair, bringing a warm smile to Helena’s features as she watched it dance on the pillow. Their hands had yet to stop touching but since the heat had been quenched, fingers now moved in soothing strokes instead.

“Do you think we’re going to have the lightshow every time? It was kind of amazing,” Myka wondered aloud.

“I suppose we’ll find out later today,” HG replied with a smirk. “We will officially be on our honeymoon by then.” She pulled the sheet up over a goose-pimply shoulder and then returned her hand to the curve of a waist. “Your colour behaves differently, depending on your mood. Currently, you are calm, sated and almost ready for sleep. It ebbs and flows like the gentle lapping of waves upon the shore. Not nearly as energetic as it was half an hour ago.”

“That was oddly poetic,” Myka chuckled. “Did I fry your brain?”

Far from being offended, Helena grinned. “Not a day goes by when my brain doesn’t short at the sight of you.”

“Charmer,” the brunette accused before becoming serious again. “I take it we’re not worrying about this?”

Helena took a thoughtful breath and paused. It hadn’t really occurred to her that there was anything that needed to be considered dangerous or threatening in the changes to their connection. Yes, they had some work ahead of them to figure out the hows and whys but her initial impression was of a gift; a natural evolution of their bond, amplified by their rings and manifesting now as a result of their vows and the consummation of their marriage.

“Quite honestly, darling, it hadn’t occurred to me. I was rather more fascinated than concerned. Are you worried?” she asked.

Myka smiled and shook her head. “No, I suppose not. I’m so used to us dealing with disasters, I just keep expecting the other shoe to drop. Are we going to talk about the memory gaps? You _do_ have them too, right? Past lovers?” she asked – beginning to falter as she considered that it might have only affected her.

Helena nodded and leant forward to capture runaway-lips in a reassuring kiss. “So long as my memories of _our_ intimate moments are unaffected... I am curious but I rather like being unable to recall intimacies with past lovers. I have always been destined for your arms regardless. I retain memories of their friendships, that is all I need.” She watched her wife’s expression carefully, noting the frown that persisted. “Are you upset, that you don’t have those memories of Sam? I know you louvmn...”

Placing fingers over the inventor’s lips, Myka stopped her in her tracks. “Not a bit. I’m with you; the only intimate memories of those kind I want are the ones that involve you. It just makes me wonder whether those are the only memories that we’ve lost. I guess we have to assume that this is the Warehouse’s doing. What if it’s just to cover up other gaps?”

“Why would it do that?”

“Why take our memories of past lovers?”

“To bring us closer?”

Myka chuckled despite the seriousness of her concern. “You’re just a big ol’ romantic at heart, aren’t you?”

“You inspire me.” HG kissed the brunette softly. She was very tempted to deepen it, to start another round and add another memory of Myka to the blissfully empty spaces that used to house her insignificant others. It was late though and they were both exhausted after the wonderful events of the day. “We can ask around to see if there’s any way to find out if we’re missing other memories but I don’t think the Warehouse is out to get us, do you? It needs us.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Myka snuggled down beneath the covers, wrapping an arm around her wife’s middle and laying her head beneath the Brit’s chin. “I can’t help thinking that it’s all too good to be true.”

“You are too good to be true,” Helena whispered into her wife’s ear. “Yet you are here, love.”

Myka smiled against and kissed salty skin. “Point taken.”

Helena returned the gesture against wild hair and suppressed a yawn. “Sleep. I want us to be well rested for later.”

Grinning to herself, the brunette curled around her lover and closed her eyes. Despite the pessimistic thoughts that had crept into her mind, she must have drifted into slumber and slept soundly because what felt like a minute later, sunlight streamed in through the open balcony doors and into her consciousness.

A yawn and a stretch served to pull the inventor from sleep too and after several minutes of greeting each other properly, they made their way into the shower and then dressed for the day.

The next few hours flew by; breakfast, lunch, goodbyes to all but Pete, Lila, Eleanor and Rupert and then they were kissing their babies, promising to call often and climbing into the back of a taxi.


	10. Chapter 10

From the moment they were alone in their honeymoon suite, Helena took every opportunity and used every excuse to try to get her wife naked. Myka insisted, with a mischievous glint in her eye, that they needed to unpack first, and then inspect the room’s amenities, check out the room-service menu, take a look at local attractions (in case they got bored) and take in the view from their new balcony.

In an effort to please and move things along, HG shoved her clothes - somewhat neatly - into a drawer and followed her spouse from one corner of their suite to another, taking care to drop a hand to a waist or rest her chin on a shoulder whenever the brunette paused. Like cat and mouse, they covered the vast room and en-suite.

“Would you like to inspect my unpacking?” the inventor whispered into an ear as they passed the love-seat for the fifth time.

Myka ran her fingers over the suede fabric and smiled knowingly to herself. “Maybe later,” she replied, even as she wondered what her wife might have hidden for her enjoyment.

“You might like what you find,” Helena pushed. “Are you sure you want to wait?”

Turning to place her hands on twin shoulders, Myka teased the straps of her partner’s vest top and let her nails slide against heated skin until they hovered tantalisingly above sensitive points. She kept her amusement on a tight leash as she leant forward to brush her lips against the corner of a mouth. “Later,” she repeated and slipped out of the loose hold, heading for the bathroom again.

Helena hovered in the doorway, watching her wife as the brunette played with the bath-taps, her backside deliberately positioned to the best advantage. HG twitched and shoved her hands into her pockets. It was quite obvious that Myka was testing her patience and will-power. The question was: how should she respond? What were the rules of the game and how could she win?

Any scenario where her wife was naked and longing for her touch was a win in Helena’s book, but how to go about it? Subtlety was apparently not the aim of the game, but she wasn’t about to give up her position so easily.

Striding forward, the inventor braced herself against her lover’s waist and leant over the brunette to reach the taps too. She heard a short gasp and swallowed her grin. After pulling the lever to close the plug hole, she opened the hot tap to begin filling the tub. “May as well make the most of this chance to test the hot-tub function,” she said casually before stepping back and grabbing the hem of her top to pull it off. With a challenging expression, she left the room, kicking off her sandals as she went in search of a towel. _On the other hand, subtlety isn’t always the best approach._

Myka followed the Brit’s progress with lidded eyes and utter enjoyment on her features. She loved it when Helena chased her. She was aware that her behaviour highlighted her embedded insecurities - her talks with Abigail had uncovered that much - but they’d agreed that, in the right setting, it didn’t need to be a flaw. Her wife wouldn’t give up when she had her keen sights set on something; HG enjoyed the chase, and Myka wanted to be caught - she just didn’t want to make the catching too easy.

Green eyes darkened considerably as the inventor dropped the last of her clothes into a puddle on the floor and then leaned over the bed to grab the towel that she’d purposely left just out of arm’s reach. _Don’t take the bait,_ Myka thought repeatedly even as her legs carried her out of the bathroom. She caught her wife’s predatory gaze and thousand-watt smile and faltered.

“Darling,” Helena greeted as she straightened and placed her hands on her hips. “Would you mind terribly?” she asked and gestured towards the fluffy pile of fabric that looked to Myka the size of a hand towel.

Mouth suddenly dry, the brunette nodded, reaching blindly for the item in question as she skirted the corner of the bed and approached her lover, inch by inch. “I thought you wanted a ‘clothes optional’ policy for the next two weeks,” she reminded her wife.

HG gestured to her current state of undress and smirked when lust-filled orbs followed to drink in the sight of her. “That’s the plan. I still need a way to dry off though, else I’ll be dripping everywhere.”

Suddenly wondering exactly when her mind had become so susceptible to the suggestion of dirty-talk, Myka swallowed and half held out the towel for Helena to take. Their hands met and she kept her grip so that they were forced closer. “I have no problem with you staying wet,” she confessed, her voice heavily laden with desire now. She was losing but couldn’t care less. Either way, they’d both get their prize.

Through some miracle, Myka managed to pry her fingers from the towel and regained some ground with a step back and turned. She was almost out of reach. Almost had enough distance to regain some control over her libido but then Helena was moving with her and they’d barely reached the foot of the bed before the towel wrapped around her wrist and a naked body collided against her.

A startled laugh burst from her mouth and she turned back to fix the inventor with bright eyes. “Does this mean you give in?” she teased with a grin. She placed one knee on the mattress and hopped onto the bed, keeping them at eye-level.

“I concede,” HG muttered distractedly as her hands reached for fastenings and made quick work of her wife’s clothes.

Myka pulled the inventor into a kiss as they shuffled higher up the bed. She felt her lover’s weight pushing her into the mattress and allowed a groan to fall from her lips. She could already see the glow from their skin increasing in intensity. Could feel the bond tightening between them as they became entangled. Helena’s mouth took a winding path along her torso, its progress halting sporadically to pay closer attention to highly sensitive nerve endings until she made her way far enough south to sink her tongue into a well of desire.

Feeling the last vestiges of her self-consciousness fall away, Myka revelled in the knowledge that she was comfortable in her own skin and open to her partner. She was proud of her body at last and free to enjoy the way her lover seemed to worship it.

Suddenly feeling the need to have Helena’s weight and scent surrounding her again, Myka sank her fingers into raven hair and encouraged her wife’s mouth back to her own. She wrapped her legs around a lithe waist, welcoming the Brit between them.

As it often did, time lost all meaning while they moved together, making love. Hands knew just where and how to touch to bring the most pleasure and mouths spilled words of love and encouragement until they crested that precipice together, both tumbling down the other side to be caught in a safe embrace.

Eyes closed to savour the aftermath of blissful release, Myka smiled at the feel of fingertips tracing her features. When her eyelids eventually fluttered open, she found herself gazing up at an awe-filled expression and felt her heart skip a beat. Helena was looking at her with so much depth and emotion, it was overwhelming. She saw their past, present and future reflected in those fathomless windows and felt an ache deep within her for the child they had decided to do without. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she felt her lover’s hands reach to soothe them away. _I wish..._ she thought as images of a baby filled her mind.

“I know, Myka,” HG whispered reverently as her subconscious echoed her wife’s inner yearning. “Nothing is set in stone though, love. We know not what the future may bring.”

Though she knew she wouldn’t change her mind, something about these words calmed the brunette’s thoughts. She nodded and drew the inventor down into a lingering kiss. What began as a slow, reaffirming exploration quickly turned into something more, something consuming. For no apparent reason, Myka’s attention drifted for a fraction of a second and she had to pause and listen.

“What’s that sound?” she wondered aloud, almost as soon as the answer popped into her head.

“The tub!” they realised simultaneously.

“Bollocks!” HG swore and rolled off the bed.

* * * * *

At the end of their second week in Kent - feeling pampered, rested and closer than ever - Mrs and Mrs Wells-Bering journeyed back into the centre of London. Holding hands in the rear of their Hackney cab, they exchanged secret smiles and shared a memory from a similar journey long ago.

Since the entire family planned to leave for the north the following morning, they didn’t bother to unpack and left for the park where their family was spending their last full day in the capital.

Clouds were heavy overhead and the tingle of static in the air belayed the pressure of an oncoming storm. Precipitation was not forecast until the evening though so they were free to enjoy the warm afternoon with the occasional beam of sunshine that fought its way past castles in the sky.

Having the need to feel girlier today, Myka had chosen a summery dress that flapped pleasantly around her legs as she walked. Every now and then, her step pushed her closer to her companion and their hips brushed together slightly, prompting shy smiles and loving looks. Helena wore three-quarter length trousers, open-toed sandals and a loose fitting shirt that just hinted at the flesh beneath. Myka had a hard time keeping her eyes on the path before them as they constantly wandered over her wife’s body, which had the added effect of causing more collisions. She couldn’t wait to see her partner’s body changing – filling out as their baby grew. She was still afraid of what the future held for their children, but excitement had replaced most of her reserve. _How quickly life can change in a few short weeks,_ she marvelled.

HG smirked to herself after the fourth repetition. “Darling,” she teased with her most exaggerated whisper, “if you keep staring at my ankles like that, people will begin to talk.”

Myka snorted and bumped against her wife on purpose. “Shut up,” she muttered. “I’m really going to miss having unlimited access to your... ankles.”

“Believe me, love – my _ankles_ are going to feel quite deprived before the day’s end.” They strolled round a curve in the path and spotted their family gathered on a picnic blanket near a large oak. “There they are,” she noted with a relieved sigh. Her legs began to move but before she could take a step, an arm reached out to stop her.

“Wait!” the brunette said abruptly, tugging the Brit to face her. Hands rose to each side of a startled face as Myka took a moment to study and appreciate the moment. She watched as confusion quickly turned to gentle warmth and then leant in to meet waiting lips. Their position was too public to let themselves get overly carried away but when they parted, fire continued to smoulder between their gazes. She thought back to the beginning of their honeymoon and realised again how lucky she was to have Helena to share her life with; being given the means to create life again had thrown her for a loop and she hadn’t exactly handled it in the best way. “I know the week before last wasn’t exactly what either of us expected and I’m sorry again that I shut you out. I just want you to know that you were amazing and I feel so safe knowing that you’re going to be there to deal with my crazy for many years to come.”

“Forever,” HG assured her wife and kissed her forehead.

“Forever... I love you so much,” Myka whispered reverently. “You make me believe that I can handle anything.”

Helena smirked, thinking back to her wife’s enthusiasm once she’d let go of some of her pre-conceived ideas and embraced a new facet of their love-making. She turned them back in the direction they’d been walking and linked their arms together. “You can,” she responded confidently. “ _We_ can... Are you ready?”

“More than ready,” Myka confirmed, her features breaking into a radiant smile as Christina spotted them and jumped to her feet with a cry of delight.

Their strides quickened in sync, their arms full with little bodies by the time their toes hit the edge of the grass. They gathered in a small huddle with squeals from an over-excited toddler filling the air around them and drawing curious smiles from near and far. Christina’s arms found their way around her Mama’s neck and held tightly for several minutes as she breathed deeply to reacquaint herself with the missed scent.

Myka indulged her little princess, mimicking the action as she kissed soft hair and relished the feel of her child’s love surrounding her. “I missed you too, sweetheart. Did you have a good time with Elle and Rupert?”

“Yes,” the girl answered tentatively.

“But...” Myka prompted.

“I’m glad that you and Mum are back. It’s not the same without you,” she added.

“We know just what you mean, flower,” Helena jumped into the conversation as soon as she managed to pry her son’s hands from her face and hair. “Much as we both enjoyed our honeymoon, your mother and I have not found it an easy task to be apart from you for so long.”

“What have you been up to?” Myka asked as she lifted her son from her wife’s arms and Christina wrapped her arms around the inventor.

“We had a day at Madam Tussauds and had our picture taken with the queen, Grandma Elle took me to the Globe Theatre and we watched ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’, and yesterday, we took the train to Cornwall and had cream-tea at the seaside...” Christina continued to recite every memorable activity from the past fortnight, barely coming up for breath as they reached their picnic spot.

“And bought buckets and nets so we could explore the rock pools before eating fish and chips on the pier,” Eleanor finished for the girl as she pulled the newlyweds into a hug, one after the other.

“The beach was lovely... from a deck chair,” Lila joked from her awkward looking position on a cushion.

Hearing a word she recognised, Sophie temporarily abandoned her food to add her own thoughts, “Me got cwab,” she blurted excitedly.

“You caught a crab?” Myka engaged the toddler with equal enthusiasm.

“Mm-hm,” Sophie nodded. “Him pinched-ed Daddy,” she giggled, hands closing over her mouth for extra effect. Not paying attention to Pete behind her, she didn’t notice his approach and squealed loudly when large fingers and thumbs ‘pinched’ their way along her ribs. “No, Daddy!” she laughed and tried to wriggle away. The moment she was free and at a safe distance however, she turned to challenge him. “Get me!” she cried and fled.

As Freddy and, eventually, Christina joined in with the tickle war, Helena and Myka got comfortable, both reaching to help themselves to food as they began to discuss plans for the following week.

After lunch, Pete and Lila wandered back to the hotel with Sophie and Fredrick so that the toddlers (and Lila) could have a nap before their next journey. Meanwhile, the Wells couple and Wells-Bering trio walked in a thoughtful sort of silence to pay their respects and say goodbye to the family they had left behind.

The graveyard was peaceful as they entered, with only one or two other visitors wandering between the headstones and laying flowers. Rupert and Eleanor led the way to where the Wells family had a small section of plots and – almost too soon – they were standing before Charles’ grave - only, since he had become widely known for ‘his’ literary works, the name H.G. Wells was proudly displayed above his epitaph.

Not knowing quite how her wife would feel upon seeing her own name on her brother’s grave, Myka squeezed the inventor’s hand to let her know that she wasn’t alone. Christina had moved in front of them with the bouquet she’d picked hanging in a limp hand. The American felt a pang of empathy deep in her chest and immediately reached out to offer the same comfort with a hand upon her daughter’s shoulder. She wasn’t sure how long they stood in silence, consumed by memories, before the eleven-year-old decided to voice the question that must have been plaguing her mind.

“Mum,” she began in a hush. “Why does Uncle Charles have your name?”

“Charles and I collaborated for the stories he wrote.” Helena answered robotically. “Since the name and his face became synonymous with each other, I suppose it would have raised too many questions to change his name after death.”

Hearing and feeling the confliction of old wounds and grief in her wife’s words, Myka reached around the inventor’s waist to try to temper her pain. “It doesn’t change who he was to you though, Christina.” With one hand still resting on her daughter’s shoulder, the brunette stroked a thumb in soothing circles and tried to help her understand with simple concepts. At some point in the future, they might be able to discuss life and death in more depth and explore the subject at a more philosophical level, but not today. “Think back. Try to find a memory that makes you feel connected with him.”

While the girl followed the instructions and continued to gaze at the headstone, beside Myka, Helena struggled to keep her composure. Barely a day had passed where she didn’t end up arguing with her brother yet he’d been her closest companion for many years. He’d happily hijacked her name and her ideas with very little thanks thrown her way but when it came to protecting her from their parents, particularly their mother, he’d done so with very little pomp and circumstance. Allowing his unwed sister and bastard niece to live with him must have raised more than just eyebrows amongst his ‘friends’ but he never once complained or criticised her for the way she lived. Any time he did mention it was out of concern for her wellbeing and she was ashamed that she was only just realising this.

She needed space - a minute to herself to gather the threads of her frayed emotions. With a quick kiss to Myka’s cheek, she pulled out of the embrace and whispered a quick ‘come and find me in a few minutes’ before wandering off on her own.

With a destination pre-set in her mind, Helena barely thought about where her feet were taking her as she contemplated her turbulent relationship with her brother. If she’d taken the time to absorb her surroundings, she might have noticed more than one familiar name amongst the dearly departed but as it was, she bypassed old friends, lovers and rivals without a thought for their condition, until she came to the one grave she sought.

The headstone was less imposing than she’d imagined it would be and a stray thought wondered whether Charles had chosen it. She’d made so little time to learn about her family since arriving in the twenty-first century and now, every time something new came to light, a tiny part of her cringed to realise that she hadn’t cared enough to find out for herself. She’d naturally assumed that her mother’s grave would be beside her father’s so when Eleanor had told her that Genevieve’s will detailed her wish to be buried near her own parents, her mind had clambered for a reason.

Was it her fault for the emotional distance that built between her parents in their twilight years? They had never been effusive with their affections but had always appeared companionable and well suited in their life’s goals. How much had they mourned her absence and how much had Charles had to endure the fallout? Had her mother rejoiced in her disappearance, glad to be rid of the child who constantly disappointed her; had she cursed Helena’s name for creating chaos that not even the ever-resourceful Mrs George Wells could hide; had she actually felt sadness for the loss of her only daughter, despite their differences?

“I suppose I will never know what you thought of me in the end,” the inventor uttered to the cold stone. She was aware of the presence of another close by so didn’t flinch when arms wrapped themselves around her waist and pulled her into a warm embrace. In spite of the muggy weather that had fallen on the land, her body shivered, which made her snuggle further into her wife.

“Since you have no way of knowing,” Myka began softly, “it wouldn’t hurt to imagine that her last thoughts were of a mother’s love for her child.”

“Her last words to me were: _daughters never turn out the way you expect them to. Grieve and move on, Helena._ ” HG’s body stiffened with the memory and she had to take several deep breaths before she could shake the residual ire that came with it.

Myka took the pause as an opportunity to control her own spike of anger. “You can’t _know_ what she meant by that. It’s clear that she had expectations for you but you could just as well say that she had accepted the fact that you are who you are. _Move on_ might be what _she_ was attempting to do.”

“I called her every horrid thing I could think of,” Helena spat. “How could she love me after that?”

“And how many times have Christina or Freddy been mean to you when they’re upset? It hurts but you don’t love them any less,” the brunette pointed out firmly. “You were grieving for your child... Our child.” She pushed her nose into raven hair and breathed in to calm her thoughts. Hands pushed under the hem of a shirt and splayed around a naval. “Harsh words are easy to find in the heat of the moment, your mother had to know that.”

“I can’t decide which is worse,” Helena began to explain in a softer tone. “Thinking that they were able to move on with ease after my _passing,_ or thinking that they suffered the same grief that I did after... Christina.”

Knowing her wife’s propensity for harbouring guilt, Myka took a moment to word her thoughts carefully. “Can you change it?” A soft ‘no’ met her ears. “Would you stay, if you could go back?” A firmer ‘no’ this time. “Then all you can really do is honour their memories and live the life you choose.”

Myka wasn’t sure how much her words had had an impact on the inventor’s thoughts but the body in her arms did relax slightly and the echo of chaos she felt in her mind became less acute.

It was easy to think back and see Genevieve as the antagonist who had made Helena’s early life unnecessarily difficult. She recalled the feel of that critical, calculating gaze on her the one time they’d met and wondered if Helena felt as she had with her father. Parental disapproval was unfair for any child do deal with when there was no clear reason, but Myka was well aware that she was the lucky one of the two of them. Since the incident with Poe’s notebook and announcing her involvement with Helena, Warren had mellowed a lot and their relationship had taken a marked turn.

Helena would never know if she could have had the same progress with her mother. It would take time for the inventor to make sense of her feelings and in the meantime, all Myka could do was be patient and offer her support when it was needed. The sky above them darkened gradually as they continued to stand in silence, until HG whispered a single word.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Myka responded.

“My parents... Do you recall what Jason said when he was keeping an eye on our older Christina? He thought he heard her say ‘Rick the cat’,” she began to explain.

“... Yes,” Myka answered as she wondered where the thought was going.

“Father wanted to call me ‘Helena’ but mother preferred ‘Catherine’.” Her hands joined her wife’s over her belly and she looked down at their fingers twined together. “Needless to say, Father got his way, but perhaps...”

Myka smiled against the shell of an ear. “Cat,” she whispered, tasting the name. “I like it. ‘Catherine’ will go well with Christina and Fredrick, if it’s a girl, and it’s a fitting tribute.”

They stood for a minute longer, absorbing their decision, before the brunette suggested that they should get back to the others.

They returned hand in hand to relieved smiles and an anxious looking pre-teen. Helena immediately wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and pulled her close.

“I’m sorry about that, love,” HG kissed the girl’s head. “I just needed a few minutes. Did you find a good memory?”

“There are so many,” Christina answered after double checking that her mother was ok, “but my favourites were mostly when you were working out of town and he told me stories about when _you_ were a little girl.”

An elegant eyebrow rose in surprise. “Did he now? And why am I only just hearing about this?”

The girl smiled - her gaze introspective. “He said you would protest if you knew and he might have to tell boring stories instead. I don’t think you’d have made him tell _boring_ stories but I liked the stories about you the best.”

The inventor couldn’t help but smile at the compliment even as she knew that the girl’s desire came from a place where she disliked being separated from her mother. “How often did I get into trouble in these stories?”

“All the time!” Christina giggled. “But you always fought to help Uncle Charlie and in the end, you would make everything square, and then you would tell _him_ a story.”

“His stories were about my stories?” HG asked in surprise.

“Did you really used to read to him all through the night?” the nine-year-old asked in amazement as she recalled more and more from those early days. “I think he was teasing.”

“It was often by candle light but not all through the night. Exaggeration was one trait that we shared.”

Helena gazed at the headstone with her own name reflected back at her and for the first time, felt connected to her brother rather than pushed aside. He’d found success at her expense but was it possible that all of their antagonism had hidden a grudging respect for each other? He had made the effort to put pen to paper and had given shape to her ideas after all. Perhaps his desire to do so was borne out of his memories of their childhood together. She reached to stroke a hand across Christina’s cheek. “Keep those memories alive, my darling, and he will always be with you.”

Christina closed her eyes, taking a moment to picture herself in bed, with her uncle on his chair and a candle beside him while he excitedly recounted her mother’s dastardly deeds. “What are you going to remember, Mum?” she asked once she was satisfied that she had her thought committed to memory.

“I think I shall take a leaf from your book and remember the bedtime stories we shared,” HG answered simply. In actual fact, the memory that appeared at the forefront of her mind in that moment was the day they’d spent together in Plymouth, after their grandparents had left for the New World.

She remembered the weight of melancholy that had settled in her stomach once the older couple were out of sight. It had been Charles and Christina’s antics about the town that had lifted her spirits in the end and in hindsight, she realised just how much effort her brother had put into making sure that she had a good time. That day marked a significant point of negative feeling: the day she had lost the two people who had seemed to her like parents. Charles had understood more than anyone that her happiness depended heavily on Eleanor and Rupert’s presence in her life. That consideration was something she wanted to hold onto.

After spending a little time with her grandfather and listening to tales of his youth, they said their final goodbyes and began the winding walk back to the hotel. Though they advanced in solemn silence for a time, they all felt as if a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Some days it felt as if they’d lived two lives, even for Myka – though her visit to the past had been short. Keeping the events of those lives separate when they were intricately connected was no mean feat but sometimes it was the only way any of them could accept the pieces that were forever gone.

* * * * *

Needing all the space they could get on the train, they settled into first class, their party occupying two booths on either side of the coach so they could easily share the experience of their hour and a half journey north.

Navigating unfamiliar places is tricky enough when one is travelling alone. Add luggage, children and crowds to the mix and you have a recipe for disaster. Christina had fortunately taken to heart her lessons and lectures about staying focussed and not wandering off alone. She stayed close and kept a hawk’s gaze on her brother, trusting that the adults could find their way out of the station.

Birmingham’s New Street Station held very little resemblance to the place Rupert, Eleanor and Helena had known. Surrounded once more by shops, cafes and fast-food stops every which way they looked, the only visibly familiar aspects were the names of the street exits. Once out of the maze, they piled into two taxis, which took them on an unintentional scenic tour of the city before driving away from the centre to their next temporary lodgings.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos!

** Chapter Eleven **

Myka flopped onto hers and Helena’s bed once she’d finished unpacking, again, and stared up at the ceiling. She took a moment to appreciate her wife’s ability to find a period property with adjoining children’s rooms for both them and Pete’s small family. Spending over a week almost constantly touching her wife, often while naked, had apparently not quenched their desire for each other and she was very much looking forward to having alone time with the inventor later in the day.

They spent their first few days exploring the city centre, taking in the sights and visiting the local attractions. All of them enjoyed the Sea-Life Centre, with Christina reciting every line from Finding Dory, Freddy wanting to spend most of his time in the tunnel and Sophie pressing her nose up against the glass of every tank. Christina spent an afternoon with her mothers at the museum, a morning with Myka at an art gallery and an evening at the ballet. All nine of them watched a matinee pantomime of Jack and the Beanstalk and midweek, they spent the day at a local park, the adults taking a well earned rest while the toddlers wore themselves out on the grass and the pre-teen found a shady spot with her book.

With so much history available, it was hard for the enthusiasts amongst them to decide what to do next, but since they found it difficult to say no to their daughter most days, especially when it came to expressing an interest in educational excursions, by Friday, Myka and Helena deferred to Christina for their next day trip. Thus, they boarded an early train and made their way to the once Mercian capital to enjoy its annual historical fair.

Acting as tour-guide, Christina led their group from the train station to the bank of the river Anker, where they followed its progress through the park to the town’s heart, Tamworth Castle.

“Look! I can see the tents and the costumes!” Christina cried with excitement as they walked up a small incline and got their first view of the castle grounds across the river.

With Sophie already on her father’s shoulders, Myka obliged her son’s pleas for a better view and knelt down so that Helena could help him onto her back. To their left was a vast field and then, moving clockwise: a skate park, tennis courts, a play park, and on their right, a bridge over the river and the castle beyond that. Stalls began to litter their path and several times, Myka had to deter Pete away from the food venues.

Managing to keep the younger children away from the swings and slides, they stopped to watch the water fowl, spent several minutes wandering up, down and between flower beds and eventually crested the hill to get their first full view of the medieval fortress.

“Look at the cannons,” Christina commented as she took in their surroundings. Her feet carried her to the nearest cannon and she immediately crouched behind it to check the sights.

“Sweetheart, I thought you wanted to visit the castle? There’ll be time to explore the grounds later,” Myka attempted to explain as her daughter’s attention drifted every which way. “Christina!” she said more sharply, hoping to grab her focus.

“Yes, Mama?” the eleven-year-old answered, her expression one of confusion.

Myka knelt again and Fredrick took the opportunity to slip off so he could investigate the cannon himself. Agent Bering took a second to check that eyes were on her son before placing hands on each of her daughter’s shoulders. “Do you still want to see inside the castle or would you rather spend the day out here? If you want to head inside, it has to be now because we need to be finished in time for lunch.”

The girl’s gaze turned on the standing remnant of William I’s successful campaign across England and then returned to the festivities around them. “Would you be cross if I changed my mind?” she wondered, though she was fairly certain that she knew the answer.

“Of course not, you silly sausage,” Myka laughed. “Plans change. It’s good to be adaptable. Let’s tell the others and we can decide what we want to see first.”

Pete and Lila were both amenable to being outside since the weather was fair and they’d learnt very quickly that the sun in England could be fickle in its appearance. Sophie and Freddy appeared happy to trail after Christina, which left Eleanor and Rupert to explore the building’s innards and report back with their findings.

The remaining party explored the upper grounds at a leisurely pace, wandering between stalls where they crafted clay pots and wove straw baskets, held birds of prey and minted their own coins. Christina and Helena spent a long time designing their family crest while Myka and Pete played referees to toddlers with wooden swords.

As they wandered back through the flowers and over the bridge again, Lila spotted a newly vacant picnic table and made a bee-line for it, staring down every other Harryful with all the energy of a pregnant woman holding temporary relief on her mind. As it was a little too early for lunch, Lila shooed them all impatiently towards the play park and pulled a magazine from her bag.

“Wing, Daddy!” Sophie shouted as she pushed open the gate and past the baby obstacle courses.

“Fweddy too!” Fredrick agreed and tore off after his friend.

Christina followed her brother and gamely entertained his every whim under her mothers’ watchful eyes but couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting every so often to the other half of the play area. Older, louder, more agile children raced around, jumping over obstacles, swinging between bars and scaling the sides of large, wooden structures. She suddenly wished that her friends from school were there, or that Adelaide had accompanied them. Much as she enjoyed time with her parents and the younger members of their family, since going to school, she had begun to appreciate having people her own age to mix with.

“Why don’t you go and see if you can find someone to play with?” Myka’s voice interrupted the eleven-year-old’s musings.

“May I?” Christina asked, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness at the suggestion.

“As long as you stay inside the fence,” the regent warned.

“I will. Thanks, Mama,” the girl grinned and kissed her mother’s cheek. She skipped past her Mum, repeating the promise and the kiss before getting lost amongst the mass of shouting, screeching bodies.

Myka took her place behind Freddy’s swing and began to push him in time with Sophie’s. As the same time, she opened her connection to Helena and waited for the tension she knew her wife would be feeling. Though they trusted their daughter and tried their best to give the girl a sense of independence, they were far too aware of the hidden dangers around them to be too complacent with their children’s safety.

Helena sent an impression of her moving to the other side of the play area and Myka nodded to herself before pulling her concentration back to her task.

Christina climbed a web of rope into a wooden castle and watched as other children swept past or hid behind walls as they played their games. She entertained herself for a while by seeing how fast she could make a lap of the obstacles and then trying to beat her time. She was unaware of having an audience until she passed the same group of children waiting by the swinging ropes and realised that they hadn’t moved in her last three rotations. Rather than stopping though, she decided to test her theory and simply smiled at them as she leapt to the nearest rope and swung almost lazily across the divide to the next platform.

By the time she’d made her way around again, the small group were deep in debate about who would try the ropes first. They were all much too far from the edge to be able to reach the apparatus. Though one girl at the front of the group was inching gradually closer, with one arm outstretched.

“It’s her again. Ask her,” a scrawny looking girl with a mop of blonde hair hissed from between two strikingly similar boys.

The girl near the edge froze and gave up on the rope. “No, you ask her.”

Christina chuckled and the timid group seemed to relax slightly. “Ask me what?” she wondered aloud. They exchanged nervous glances for a moment before the boy closest to her gazed at her with a comically curious expression.

“How you do that ropes?”

The Victorian frowned a little, wondering both at the phrasing of the question and its meaning. “I just swing on them,” she answered since she’d never really given it much thought. As an after-thought, she added, “I do practise an awful lot at home. There are woods behind my garden.”

The answer seemed to simultaneously placate and disappoint them, as if they were expecting some secret tip that would instantly grant them the same ability. Christina walked confidently to the edge, leaned out and snagged the first rope with ease. “Here you go,” she announced, offering it to the skinny girl. She took it and stared at it as if it were a snake. Two older looking kids appeared suddenly behind them and eyeballed them impatiently.

“Are you goin’ or wot?” the taller of the two demanded.

Christina opened her mouth to request the application of manners but before she could, the mop-haired blonde thrust the rope away like she was glad to be rid of it and stepped back, letting the older boys passed without challenge. She shook off the feeling of irritation and injustice of the power play and grabbed the rope again when it swung back towards her. She assessed the worried faces all around her and tried to figure out why they all appeared terrified. Perhaps they thought it was unsafe? Deciding to demonstrate, she stepped off the edge of the platform and wrapped her legs around the rope, feeling glad as she did so that she’d chosen to wear shorts under her dress.

“It’s safe,” she told them as she hung there, swaying gently from side to side.

“But what if you fall?” the bigger girl asked.

The eleven-year-old glanced down at the ground and thought about the question. It wasn’t a big drop. Not compared to the height of some trees she’d climbed. Was that what they were really worried about? “Bend your knees when you hit the ground,” she suggested. “Like this...” she swung to the next rope and then made a play of missing the one following. She flailed a bit, lost her grip and then landed neatly and rolled before jumping to her feet. “See? It doesn’t really hurt and you can jump up and try again.”

A few nervous smiles passed around the four children above and Christina volunteered to stay below to help their collective confidence and, one by one, they all tried to swing their way across.

The boys, whose names were Harry and Henry, were twins and were just as close as she was with her brother, only having the extra benefit of being the same age. Henry, who’d been the first to speak to her, wore wires and plastic on his head, which Christina soon leaned were there to help him hear. When Harry tried to explain something to his brother and the pair of them began waving their hands about, the Victorian found it fascinating and filed it away as something to look into when she got home. She was so engrossed with their signed conversation that she nearly missed the smaller girl’s panic as she lost her grip and forgot all about bending her knees.

She learned that her name was Emma, the bigger girl was her cousin, Isabel and they were all ten years old and went to the same school. It made her long for her own friends again but she quickly shook it off.

Another thing Christina learned very quickly was that even with all the will and confidence in the world, a lack of upper body strength soon put paid to climbing and swinging. Feigning exhaustion, she asked for suggestions on what they should do next and found herself playing tig - as a dragon.

She only spotted her Mum when Harry ran behind a row of benches and she raced along in hot pursuit. After easily catching the others a few times, she deliberately slowed down to match the _dragon’s_ pace until they were all tired of running and collapsed onto the round-a-bout. A red-haired lady appeared to remind the twins to re-hydrate and Christina took the opportunity to skip back to the bench and ask about lunch.

The families of her new friends sat outside a small cafe within clear view of Lila’s chosen spot. As her brother insisted that he needed Mummy to take him to the toilet, Myka tag-teamed with Helena and helped the pre-teens to negotiate a picnic spot on the grass in view of all their elders.

“That lady talk funny. Like different voice,” Henry commented once Myka had returned to the table.

Harry tapped his brother’s shoulder. “It’s an accent, Henry. She has a different accent.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that. Where she from?” the boy enquired further.

“That’s my Mama. She’s American,” Christina indulged the question. She was slightly wary of where this conversation was going, given her experience at her dance class and then with a few kids at school, but she was proud of her family and liked talking about them. “We live in America, in Colorado.”

“I thought _that_ lady was your mom?” Emma wondered as she pointed to Helena.

“Yeah, that’s my Mum. She wanted to marry Mama in England so that’s why we’re here. I have two mothers.” She held her breath as she watched this information sink in and saw the dawning of understanding in their eyes.

Showing himself to be quite the inquisitive soul, Henry was the first to speak up again. “Where your Dad?”

“I don’t have a father,” Christina replied easily.

There was an awkward moment where the boy seemed to agonise over his next words while those around him chewed thoughtfully. “Our dad died,” he finally blurted, exchanging a gauging look with his brother as he added, “when we was little.”

Harry nodded and then turned on the older girl. “Is it nice having two mums?”

The Victorian was caught off guard by the confession and abrupt question. She offered her condolences first before answering. “It’s great. But I think that’s because they’re just my parents; they love me and I love them.”

Harry brushed crumbs off his shorts before reaching for a packet of crisps. “We have Uncle Lee,” he added on the subject of family. “He does ballet trumps.”

Chuckles broke all around them.

“He does what!?” Christina cried.

“Ballet trumps,” Henry repeated for his brother and jumped to his feet, twirling and blowing raspberries as Harry dissolved into giggles.

Relief increased the Victorian’s amusement and tears of merriment slipped down her cheeks as the twins danced and ‘trumped’ until they were laughing too hard to remain standing. It was with genuine regret that Christina finished her lunch and bid farewell to her new friends. She joined her family as they strolled along the riverbank, watched swans with their cygnets and geese with their goslings until they heard a commotion from near the castle and returned across the bridge to take a closer look.

On the lawn, between bandstand and riverbank, costumed performers had erected a rectangular barrier and were encouraging the public to gather round for a spectacle. In the middle of the grass stood two men, each garbed in heavy armour and holding sword and shield.

Pete jogged ahead with Sophie on his shoulders as he noticed a space to sit, and plonked himself down on the grass. He plucked the girl from his back and placed her in his lap as the rest of their party joined them. “Stay there, Soph’,” he warned his daughter. “We’re not allowed to go past the rope.”

“Sword, Daddy!” Sophie shouted with excitement and looked around for her wooden toy. She spotted Freddy in his mummy’s lap and reached for his sword.

“No, ‘Ophie. Mine!” he complained and pulled the toy close to his chest.

“Fredrick!” HG warned in alarm as she narrowly avoided losing an eye. “Love, do be careful,” she instructed as she held the blade to stop it from swinging about. “Sophie, your mother has your sword,” she told the other toddler to halt the impending meltdown that appeared on her face.

Lila held her daughter’s weapon out of reach, waiting to get the girl’s attention. “No hitting people,” she warned. She pointed to the soldiers who were getting ready to battle each other. “They’re just pretending, not trying to hurt each other, ok? No hitting people!” she repeated more sternly.

“Yea, Mommy,” the two-year-old answered impatiently, her hands reaching for the toy, fingers grasping at nothing but air for several seconds.

As she finally handed it over, Lila tried not to show either her amusement at her daughter’s behaviour or her exasperation at her boyfriend’s short-sighted decision in buying the toys in the first place.

Attentions were quickly captured by the sudden clashing of metal on metal and the roar of the crowd as battle commenced. A local ‘lord’ spurred the competition on, cheering loudly for the white-knight as he swigged copious amounts of mead and belched sporadically, eliciting waves of laughter from the audience.

Sword fighting was followed by a team of jesters, who juggled, knocked one another over and performed a series of acrobatics. These proceeded: a test of strength, a pie eating contest and a joust on hobby-horses. Finally, all of the contestants cleared the area, leaving the crier alone and holding a pair of training swords. His announcement of a prize for defeating their champion in armed combat and a request for volunteers had barely left his mouth before Christina leapt to her feet, her hand thrust high in the air and the little body bouncing hopefully from one foot to the other.

“We have an eager challenger,” the crier chuckled as he spotted the girl. “But also an age restriction young lady... Are there no brave knights who would dare to challenge our champion?” he continued as he moved to walk past Christina.

Feeling indignant, the eleven-year-old thrust her hands on her hips and gathered all of that energy into projecting her voice. “Excuse me!”

Backtracking, the crier approached Christina, his face suppressing exasperation and nervousness. “I’m sorry, Miss, but I really can’t let you compete,” he repeated with forced patience.

“What about my Mama?” the Victorian asked as she ignored the hand that tried to encourage her to return to her seat.

“Christina!” Myka exclaimed in shock.

Intrigue replaced any negative emotion as the crier glanced once over the girl’s mother. “How about it, my lady? Do we have a Joan of Arc in our midst?”

The eleven-year-old adopted her most pleading expression as she gazed up at the American. “Go on, Mama. You’ll be better than anyone they have. _You_ can beat their champion, I know you can.”

Myka looked to her wife with a raised eyebrow.

“You won’t hear any protests from me, darling,” the inventor smiled from her captive state beneath their son. “I’m not likely to argue against an opportunity to see you in action.”

It was the interest in her wife’s gaze that provided Myka with her decision. Shrugging off her shoulder bag, Regent Bering nodded to the crier and ducked under the rope. “What do I have to do?” she asked to the delight of her daughter.

He grinned and brought his megaphone back to his mouth. It was an ancient looking contraption but as the sound of his voice came from four large speakers, it was clear that there was a microphone hidden inside. “We have a challenger, ladies and gentlemen!”

Cheers, chuckles and a few murmurs rose from the audience while Myka followed her instructor to the tent just off the far side of the lawn and listened to safety instructions as she was given a tabard that resembled chain-mail, with an image of a raven at its centre. She could still hear the crier as he continued to rile the audience, sussing out other challengers if she couldn’t complete three rounds against The Mangler. All she had to do was keep her sword and stay in the marked area. It seemed an unfair fight. For The Mangler at least. A quick signing of a legal waver and then she was directed back to the centre of the lawn.

“And here she is, folks, the Lady...” he brought his head closer to hers to hear her name.

“Myka.”

“Lady Myka!” He lowered the megaphone to keep their conversation private as he checked that she knew what she had to do.

“Each round will last two minutes. Keep my sword, stay in the ring and remember that it’s just for fun. I don’t need to channel my inner berserker,” she added with an easy smile.

He nodded and took a second to assess her demeanour. She looked uncomfortable with the eyes of many fixed firmly on her, but not the least bit nervous about the impending conflict. “Your daughter was confident that you’d win. Done this before have you?”

“She’s eleven,” Myka emphasised, knowing that children were masters of exaggeration. “I fenced in college,” she added as an explanation.

He seemed impressed but didn’t push for details. “Our challenger is ready, so let’s see who she’ll be facing!”

* * * * *

The battle was long and bloody. Or at least, that was how it sounded through an eleven-year-old’s retelling of events. Even a week later, as their holiday was drawing to an end, Christina had yet to grow tired of re-enacting her Mama’s triumphant struggle against The Mangler. On the train halfway between Chester and London, the remaining bridal party were making the first leg of their journey home.

“... and when he backed you against the edge of the ring and you parried at the last second before escaping, the whole crowd cheered!” She missed the tired smiles from her parents as she gazed out of the window distractedly. “You really were smashing, Mama. May we train more with the foils when we arrive home? And practise some more kenpo, Mum?”

Helena peeled her eyes open and smiled indulgently at the girl. No matter how tired she felt at the moment, a part of her brain repeatedly reminded her that it was a miracle they were there to begin with. Under that context, it was almost a pleasure to feel exasperated and annoyed. “I imagine we will all need a few days to settle back into our routine, but if you would like to increase the frequency of our lessons, I’d be happy to oblige, my love.”

Careful not to jostle the toddler in her lap, Myka leaned closer to her wife and kissed Helena’s forehead before turning back to their daughter. “What she said.”

Spread across each side of the train, at two tables, both families chatted listlessly but with fondness about their recent adventures. When they ran short on things to say, Christina swapped seats with Eleanor and played chess with her great-grandfather.

The lush greens of opulent fields interspersed cows, sheep and the odd horse between busy towns and cities, until they dragged their cases onto the platform of Euston Station and wandered, bleary-eyed, back on the streets of London.

Their last overnight stay brought them full circle back to where they’d begun and with very little grumbling, exhausted children flopped into bed and were snoring in seconds. Despite being similarly tired, the adults congregated in the connecting living space between the parents’ suites and sank into comfy chairs.

“I can’t wait to get home,” Lila confessed as she wrestled her feet on to a stool and rubbed circles over her ever-expanding belly.

Helena sat with an arm around her wife and her feet tucked beneath her. Raising an eyebrow at her friend’s comment, she smirked and replied with a sarcastic, “Nice to know you enjoyed our trip, dear.”

The blonde rolled her eyes and thought for a second about throwing a cushion at the Brit, before deciding that it was too much effort. “You know what I mean,” she grumbled. “It’s been amazing, but you’re not carrying around an extra four or five pound in weight.”

The newlyweds shared a moment without even glancing at each other and an impression of sharing their news passed between them. A beat, smiles and then Helena’s voice projected a teasing, “Not yet.”

Stupefied silence descended on the room, frowns covering faces as tired brains tuned in and then tried to process what had been said. It was Eleanor’s happy gasp that broke the room, followed by Rupert’s warm chuckle and Pete’s confused whimper.

“Oh, Helena,” Mrs Wells uttered in a tone full of emotion. “Girls, I am quite sure that I don’t want to know how you managed it,” she commented with a chuckle like her husband’s. “But I am overjoyed. For both of you.”

“I want to know how they did it,” Lattimer mumbled after a pause, receiving a smack, a punch and a cushion to the face for his efforts.

Helena could almost feel the heat of her wife’s blush and knew where her mind had drifted. She bit her cheek as she felt her body react to the memory and shifted in her seat. “We weren’t sure whether we should try for another, but the Warehouse apparently decided to provide us with the means, so we thought we’d make the most of the opportunity,” she explained and glanced at her lover to gauge her reaction.

Myka chewed the self-satisfied smirk that grabbed at her mouth. Feeling temporarily bold, she met her wife’s gaze and said, “It was a productive honeymoon.”

“This is great!” Pete whispered loudly. “Sophie has Freddy and now these two will get to play together.” He grinned at the two expectant women and they could see the wheels turning before he even opened his mouth. “Wouldn’t it be great if...”

Helena stopped him in his tracks. “Do not even think about betrothing our children,” she warned him in all seriousness.

Having learned over the years that particular subjects had a good chance of winding the Brit up, Pete heard her tone and immediately wanted to push that button. “What...? But we could have a double wedding and little Wells-Bering-Lattimer babies running all over the place. It’d be great,” he argued.

“Besides giving them rules to keep them safe, I will not force my children into moulds,” HG declared. “They will be able to love who they will.”

“With our support and guidance,” Myka added as she squeezed a hand around the inventor’s knee. She gave Pete a look that said ‘drop it’. She had her suspicions about his persistent need to begin conversations that ended with him bickering against Helena.

Pete deflated. “Yeah, since you put it that way.” He shook off the hint of guilt from Myka’s penetrating stare and smiled. “They still get to grow up together.”

Lila rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. “Are _you_ going to grow up with them?” she teased, earning her an _et tu?_ expression. She laughed noiselessly and placed her hands on either side of his face to draw him into a kiss.

Resting quietly against her husband, Mrs Wells observed the scene with a keen eye and savoured the moment. She watched the calm, confident expression on her granddaughter’s face and recalled the fear she’d witnessed back in 1890, when Myka had returned to the future and Helena was left to discover her pregnancy alone. It had been a trying time and there had been very little she could do to reassure the mother and that all would be well eventually.

Now, with no disapproving mother or rigid society to tell her that she was less of a person for just being herself, HG glowed with happiness and Eleanor felt able to breathe at last.

* * * * *

Myka found them in the afternoon shade of a row of peach trees, sequestered at the end of their long garden. After spending her morning helping Steve and Jason with their house-hunting, she’d returned home to a suspiciously quiet house and searched in vain from room to room before venturing outside to seek her family.

Two weeks had passed since their return from England. Two weeks when they’d slept in their own bed, cooked in their own kitchen, bathed in their own bathroom and relaxed in their own living room, and all under the knowledge that they were finally married.

Neither of them had expected their lives to change much with that extra knowledge but, somehow, it had. Regardless of the fact that they were expecting another little bundle of joy, the hours and days ran smoother, their wishes and intentions in tune-for the time being at least. Many questions remained, including whether this relaxed period was a permanent fixture or linked to the duration of Helena’s pregnancy. Either way, they were unconcerned and enjoying the bliss that had settled upon their household.

Myka wandered out over the decking and felt the spring of dense grass under her feet as she crossed the lawn and passed through a gate into the area that backed onto woodland.

Helena, Christina and Fredrick stood on interlocking mats, the older two slowly circling each other while the toddler watched from the corner. A hoola-hoop surrounded the boy’s feet, marking the space he was to keep until his turn, unless he’d had enough, at which point, he was allowed to play in the purpose-built den where he had a drawer full of toys. He seemed quite content to watch on this occasion though and remained in his circle, bouncing slightly on his toes. His sister passed in front of him, her gaze locked unflinchingly on their mother.

Christina watched as Helena stalked casually back and forth in a circular pattern. She knew where to plant her feet, how to twist her body, when to stand firm and when to slow like water. But so did her mother, and for the inventor, every movement was like second nature. She looked for an opening; searching for something to exploit.

There! A gap. It was brief; nothing more than a second, but it was something!

Knowing what to look for now, Christina patiently continued their dance and hoped that her mother wouldn’t choose to make the first move. She saw HG’s right leg cross behind her left (slightly too close to give her maximum stability) and made her move.

Myka looked on as her daughter tackled her wife and the pair fell into a series of defensive and offensive moves. She felt a twinge of concern in her gut as she watched and forced herself to remember that Helena was aware of the dangers and was only using light contact for a reason. The pair jabbed, blocked and twirled as if they were performing a choreographed dance, each circuiting the combat area several times, until Christina forced her mother off the mat and claimed victory.

“I did it!” the eleven-year-old cheered as she performed a lap of honour around the mats.

Helena smiled proudly at the girl and pulled her into a hug, whispering words of encouragement in her ear before releasing Christina to go and play with her brother. The inventor watched them as they rolled on the mats and the pre-teen began to show the toddler some basic rolls. She anticipated the arms around her waist before Myka’s hands came to rest over her belly and, instantly, she melted into the touch.

“She really is enjoying this,” Myka muttered over the inventor’s shoulder.

“I thought she might lose her enthusiasm after a few weeks,” Helena confessed as she linked her fingers through her wife’s. “She was happy to practise before but never for long. Always too focussed on sticking her head in another book or getting back to the tree-house.”

“She’s growing up,” Myka whispered against raven hair.

“Yes,” HG agreed with a mixture of delight and dread. “She grows ever closer to the young woman we met. I can see that strength in her now. It is queer to think that we are training her to best us.”

“True,” the brunette chuckled before taking a sobering breath. “But beyond that, she’ll have the strength to overcome anything that crosses her path.”

They both knew to what Myka was referring. Alexander’s heir lurked in the shadows somewhere; biding his time; waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Years of peace might fill their immediate future but the Warehouse would call for its champion eventually and Christina would be expected to answer. Both regents knew that there was still much to be done before their army was ready but Claudia promised that it would be. Myka and Helena were more than willing to put their own lives on the line for their children but knew that they had to do everything possible to make sure that wasn’t necessary.

Helena breathed slowly as she absorbed her partner’s words and squeezed her hands tighter. “I hope so, love... I hope so.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, folks: the final chapter of The Brides! Thank you to everyone who has helped me to get this far. Without your wonderful comments I would have given up long before now.
> 
> It's short, I know. I wanted to add more but I haven't made final decisions on everything coming up and didn't want to give too much away.
> 
> I've just started the first chapter of The Battle though, so something to look forward to. This story has been a long journey for me as a writer and I've learned a lot, but I think this next part is going to be the real test - to see if I can make good on all of the little promises I've made. I'm probably going to get things wrong, but I'm hoping that I can pull it together enough to make it an enjoyable end for you all.

** Epilogue **

**Denver, Colorado**

Lying in her hospital bed, exhausted but happy, Helena Wells-Bering cradled a head in the crook of her arm and felt all the hard work of the last countless hours come to fruition. She gazed down into the confused, indignant expression staring back at her and smiled in wonder. They’d made this... this beautiful creature. Through their love, they had created life, not once or twice, but three times. The last time she’d pushed another life from her body, she’d felt like it was just the two of them against the world. Now, she was surrounded by love and family.

“Catherine,” she whispered. Her voice filled the awed silence, reverence audible in her tone. Her free hand explored the wispy, curly tendrils of hair sprouting from a powder-soft scalp and continued along rosy cheeks. “She’s perfect.” Tearing her eyes from the cherub features, she gazed up at her wife and felt her heartbeat quicken.

Myka’s green eyes were glassy with tears of relief and amazement and she stood, glued to the spot as if afraid to move and spoil the moment.

After two successful home births, they’d based their birth-plan around Myka’s, with Vanessa on hold for the delivery. However, Catherine had decided, not only to arrive a week early, but also to enter the world backwards. Dr Calder had joined them just in time to call an ambulance and escort them to the hospital. Everything from that moment seemed like a long series of chaotic, noise-filled stretches of time... until now.

Feeling a hand brush gently against her arm, Myka jerked from her stupor and cautiously joined her wife on the bed. She recalled the day Fredrick was born, how she’d been scared that something might go wrong but too absorbed in the pain and the need to push that it had been a fear that gripped her with slippery fingers. Its hold on her had fluctuated – never managing to get a strong grip. This time, the experience had been entirely different. From the start, she’d felt it creeping up on her and she’d steadfastly tried to ignore it, but as Helena’s distress had become more acute and she realised that the labour wasn’t going as smoothly as hoped, she felt the sharp claws of terror grasp her heart and squeeze. Years of training to keep her head in the worst circumstances gave her the means to function despite her dread, but she wouldn’t soon forget the long hour where she’d been sure that she would lose her soul-mate and her baby in one fell swoop.

The contrast between then and now was so dramatic that she was still reeling. As she positioned herself slightly behind her wife and Helena leant against her chest, she wondered if the inventor could hear the still frantic beating of her heart. “She is, Helena,” she forced from a throat tight with emotion. “Perfect.” She turned her head to lay lips against raven locks and let her eyes close. Every breath through her nose drew in a singular scent that brought much needed comfort to a wrought mind.

Helena’s eyes drifted shut too; her exhaustion was a result of physical as well as emotional exertion. Several times, her eyelids jerked open while she slipped in and out of consciousness, her dark orbs falling on the baby in her arms in panic before she realised that everything was ok.

It would take a while before either she or Myka were no longer on high alert and able to appreciate the new addition to their family. Even then, since their lives kept them permanently on the edge of action, an element of over-cautiousness would remain. It was manageable though and that energy kept them all busy.

As the two mothers recovered from the emotional chaos of the day and prepared for the sleepless nights they knew were coming, they snuggled together, their daughter between them, and drifted into shared slumber.

* * * * *

**Claudia’s Island HQ**

The dining hall was almost full by the time Thomas arrived for dinner. He’d spent longer than usual with Archie – trying to solve the tendency his arrows had of pulling to the left – and was still packing up when the majority of the island’s residents were making their way through their evening meal.

Meals on the island were a fairly relaxed affair; the kitchen behaved more like a restaurant, taking orders when people turned up, and if you happened to miss that two hour window of opportunity, you were free to step into the kitchen and make your own dinner. Since there were so few of them in total – roughly twenty – and they couldn’t exactly hire outside help, teams took turned to cook and clean. Though in the beginning the arrangement had left a few tummies rumbling as inexperienced recruits got to grips with the science of food preparation, four years later and they all appreciated how the deal freed up a lot of time for other activities. Mostly training.

The mission was, after all, why they’d been sent there. While friendships blossomed and they became more like a family every day, there were daily reminders that they were preparing to face real dangers. Instructors might be approachable and friendly during social hours but were deadly serious during lessons. Every recruit had arrived with skills of their own, but nobody was given a free pass; they were all expected to work and train hard. When it came to the cause, everybody was one hundred percent in the game.

Thomas’ recruitment was a result of Claudia’s concern for his wellbeing; he wasn’t safe out in the world and the Warehouse was invested in protecting him for some reason. He was living on the island by default but had proved more promising that anyone could have hoped. From humble beginnings, he was now one of the top ranking archers and almost top of his class in defensive techniques too. After three years, he had blossomed from an awkward teen into a young man approaching adulthood.

While Claudia and her select group of regents were surprised by this development, they were quick to cultivate the boy’s talents. Like Christina, he seemed destined to some higher purpose and they were all invested in giving the young ones the best chance at survival.

He ordered a simple steak and let his eyes wander over the tables until he spotted an empty seat. Most of the youngest recruits were sat around the table and while he knew that he should probably feel most at home with them, he prepared himself for the usual awkwardness his body experienced when they were near.

“Hey,” he acknowledged the table as he joined them and forced himself to make eye contact with as many of them as he could.

“Tommy!” a man to the teen’s right greeted him with enthusiasm and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Where you been, kid? Cutting it fine today, aren’t ya?”

“He’s been on the range, Drey, practising his aim,” another added and winked at the teen.

Thomas frowned in confusion. Shouldn’t he want to practise? “Archie says, if I have the time, I should be on the range.”

A couple of the guys grinned at each other and Drey picked up the teasing, “ _Archie says,_ huh?”

The teen abruptly understood what they were getting at and flushed an involuntary shade of crimson. He mumbled something incoherent and focussed his attention on the meal that had just appeared in front of him.

This was why he avoided them, he thought. They didn’t mean to hurt him, he didn’t think, but they enjoyed teasing and he knew that his reactions must provide them with ample entertainment. He could count on any one of them to help him out when he was in need; they were friendly enough and had looked out for him on numerous occasions, but he dreaded these moments. He knew what was coming next; she was always the first to jump to his defence when she thought her brothers-in-arms were taking their amusement a step too far.

Her name was Fiona, she was petite and down-to-earth, with eyes that made the boy imagine far eastern ancestry, and cropped, inky hair that was always styled to stick up at odd angles. The baggy clothes she liked to wear hid the strength in her body, but Thomas remembered vividly every occasion where she’d had to submit to something more revealing. Her muscles were a sight to behold.

Fiona stared down the table, watching as each of her friends sank a little into their seat. “That’s enough. Let him alone now. I’m sure he’d like to eat his dinner in peace.”

“We’re only playing with the kid,” Drey braved a reply. He clapped Thomas on the shoulder again. “Pay no attention to us, kid. We don’t mean half the shit that falls from our faces.”

The teen offered a shy smile as he shoved a fork-full of meat into his mouth. He tried not to catch Fiona’s eye, it would only make his blush worse, but it was like his eyes were magnetically attracted to her and they drifted of their own will.

Despite these (unnecessary in his opinion) pitfalls, his life was so much better on the island that he remembered from before. Distantly, he recalled a bedroom, toys, clothes with his name in them, a man sat in front of a television and a woman who always seemed to be telling him to hurry up. In Limbo, he had fond memories of a girl who didn’t age but spent all of her time entertaining him. She’d taught him new games to play, told him secrets and stories, and cheered him up when he felt down. She’d made that place bearable but he’d still spent far too long being lonely and feeling trapped. Then, when they were finally rescued, he’d found that nobody else wanted him; not the people he’d lived with before his imprisonment and not the new families that took pity on him before moving to treat him with suspicion and fear.

The island was the first place that really felt like home and no amount of awkward adolescent crushes or sibling-like teasing was going to prevent that.

* * * * *

**Location Unknown**

Kneeling over a flower-bed, livid and yet oddly satisfied, Lloyd Spenser-Chapman Jr cradled a head in the crook of his arm and felt all the frustration of the last few hours dissipate. He glared down at the vacant, distant expression staring into nothing and sneered in disgust. He’d done that. His hands had snuffed the life from this body, countless before this one and would again for many more to come. The last time he’d strangled the dying breath from someone, he’d been forced to it through the man’s inability to perform to standards. Now, he was less one more useless person in his ranks; nothing but power would continue to surround him.

Inch by inch, he allowed his arms to relax, releasing the lifeless body from his grip. It slumped over the low wall, narrowly missing a neat row of begonias and came to rest between grass and dirt. Spenser plucked his secateurs from beneath a limp hand and calmly returned to work. “Nigel?” he beckoned softly.

A man of significant stature stepped forward on silent soles and answered the summons in an equally muted tone, “Yes, sir?”

“If you wouldn’t mind? Take out the trash.”

“At once, sir,” Nigel obeyed immediately and, with barely a grunt, bent down to sling the dead body over his shoulder.

“A shame,” Spenser whispered to his chlorophyll’d confidants. “I had higher hopes for Mr Congrave. Let’s hope our other insiders do not fail me equally.”

* * * * *

**Warehouse 14: Geirangerfjord, Norway**

Hundreds of years of assimilated personalities worked simultaneously to analyse the influx of information from the new caretaker. The Warehouse was pleased; elements were falling into place, finally. The champion would be ready. Her surrounding supports were strong and growing stronger by the day and now, perhaps only a decade or two stood before the Warehouse and its final goal.

The heir was busy too, with his serfs and devotees seeing to his dirty work. As time progressed ever onward, more disappearances marked the pruning of his ranks and highlighted just how little faith he held for his followers. Long ago, he’d chosen the path of artefacts before people but, though ultimate power was always his goal, it would eventually prove to be his downfall.

The Warehouse did its best to guide the hands that sought to slow the heir’s progress but it was late in the game now and though every success counted, they were small – fairy steps amongst giant’s. Its chosen had proved themselves worthy though blood, sweat and toil, giving of themselves for the greater good, or else reaching out to catch one another when weakness gripped them. Bonds forged with love were infinitely stronger than those forged by hate. A great battle was upon them and pain was inevitable but with love, every cut, every broken wing would heal faster and, as a family, they would carry one another to victory.

Now, as the Warehouse’s defences moved into position, all that remained was to watch and wait for the siege to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are very welcome! Since I'm in the process of planning out the next part, any suggestions that you want to make are best made now so that I can decide whether or not they will fit with my vision.
> 
> Also, a plea: if anyone can explain to me the American education system in relation to terms and holidays (vacation times), I'd be very grateful! Just basic dates would be useful.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back party? Who's with me? I'll bring the cheese!


End file.
